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OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 




Kate Ryan. Frontispiece 



OLD 
BOSTON MUSEUM 

i 

DAYS 



BY 

KATE RYAN 



WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS 
FROM PHOTOGRAPHS 




BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

1915 



#1 l ' 



Copyright, igi^, 
By Little, Brown, and Company. 



All rights reserved 
Published, October, 191 5. 



Notinooti ^ress 
Set up and electrotyped by J. S. Cushing Co., Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 



4< 



OCT 21 1915 



CI.A416043 



>4 

I 



I DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK 
TO MY GRANDCHILDREN 

KATHERINE AND WALTON McDANIEL 

BUT FOR WHOSE EARNEST ENCOURAGEMENT IT 

WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN WRITTEN. I AM 

DEEPLY GRATEFUL FOR THEIR 

INSPIRING INTEREST 



FOREWORD 

In writing this little volume, I have lived 
over again the days of the Old Museum, and 
as I recalled the faces and forms that peopled 
the stage of that famous old playhouse, I must 
confess to moments of sorrow recompensed by 
hours of joy. I doubt that even the most phil- 
osophical spirit, with never a tear or a regret 
for the past, could delve into its recesses as I 
have done, without a longing for the Old Mu- 
seum days that are gone. Yet the memory of 
those days will leave, for all time, something 
of value to remember and cherish. 

I have no desire to pass dramatic criticism 
on the individual merits of my associates, whose 
labors dignified either tragedy or comedy, nor 
to draw comparison between the past and pres- 
ent. I wish merely to express a few loving 

vii 



FOREWORD 

thoughts as I feel them. I wish to send forth 
as " a song in the rain " the glad message that 
there still exists in the hearts of old Bostonians 
tender memories of that golden time — Old 
Boston Museum days of our fathers and our 
forefathers. 

In the preparation of this volume, I wish 
gratefully to acknowledge thanks to Mr. James 
Burrows and Mr. John Bouve Clapp for their 
kindly assistance, and also to Mr. Robert Gould 
Shaw for the use of many photographs. 

KATE RYAN. 
August, 191 5. 



vni 



CONTENTS 



Chapter 

Foreword . 








Page 
vii 


I. 


Early History of the Boston Museum 




I 


II. 


My First Visit to the Boston Museum 




9 


III. 


William Warren .... 




• 25 


IV. 


Mrs. J. R. Vincent 








, 44 


V. 


Miss Annie M. Clarke . 








. 63 


VI. 


Charles Barron 








80 


VII. 


Salad Days . 








• 9i 


VIII. 


Three Comedians . 








. 117 


IX. 


The Two Reliables 








136 


X. 


" Pinafore" Days 








. 158 


XI. 


Famous Stars 








• 173 


XII. 


The Younger Generation 








205 


XIII. 


Yesterday and To-day . 
Index .... 








239 
■ 251 



IX 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



Kate Ryan . 









FACING PAGE 


The Boston Museum ir 


1 1876 




4 


The Boston Museum in 1903 




4 


Moses Kimball . 


. 




8 


Manager R. M. Field . 




. 




8 


Kate Ryan in 1872 




. 




20 


Kate Ryan in 1886 




. 




20 


William Warren . 




. 




30 


Warren as " Jefferson S 


cattering Batkins " 




3° 


Mrs. J. R. Vincent 


. 




58 


Annie M. Clarke as " f 


'eg Woffington " and C 


jeorge 




W. Wilson as " T 


riplet " 




66 


Charles Barron 


... 




88 


Annie M. Clarke 




. 




88 


James Nolan 




• 




104 


William J. LeMoyne 




. 




104 


George W. Wilson 




. 




. 124 


James H. Ring . 




. 




. 124 


J. A. Smith 




. 




. 124 


James R. Pitman 




. 




144 


James Burrows 




• » e 




. 144 


Sadie Martinot as " Hel 


3e" 


• e • 




. 160 



Frontispiece 



XI 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



Rose Temple as " Ralph Rackstraw " 




FACING PAGE 
l60 


Lizzie Harold as " Little Buttercup " 






l60 


Dion Boucicault .... 






186 


Edwin Booth .... 






186 


Richard Mansfield 






186 


The Boston Museum Stock Company, 


1889-] 


[89O 


206 


William Seymour 






2IO 


John Mason .... 






. 210 


Miriam O'Leary .... 






. 224 


Joseph Haworth .... 






224 


Marie Burress .... 






. 224 



Xll 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM 
DAYS 

CHAPTER I 
Early History of the Boston Museum 

MR. MOSES KIMBALL, founder of the 
Boston Museum, was for fifty years a 
familiar and picturesque figure in the life of 
Boston. Born in Newburyport, Massachusetts, 
in 1809, he came of good, old, Puritanical stock, 
and at the age of fourteen went to Boston to 
seek his fortune and enter upon the active 
scenes of life. He had his ups and downs, 
winning and losing, and passing through many 
vicissitudes. When about thirty years of age, 
with the aid of his brother David, he bought 

I 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

the greater part of the collections of the old 
New England Museum on Court Street which 
was then breaking up. As he was about to 
have the curiosities moved to another building, 
then in course of erection on the corner of 
Bromfield and Tremont Streets, the contractor 
failed, work on the structure stopped, and the 
building remained roofless for nearly a year. 
In the meantime, Mr. Kimball took his curiosi- 
ties to Lowell, Massachusetts. The following 
year the new building was completed, so he 
brought his collections back to Boston, and 
the Boston Museum and Gallery of Fine Arts, 
as it was called in the early days, opened its 
doors for the first time on June 14, 1841. 

The structure was modest in design. The 
Auditorium was at the top of the building, and 
was reached by two flights of rickety, break- 
neck stairs. The entire lighting was by oil 
lamps. At the door was placed a huge stump 
of a tree, concaved on top, to form a receptacle 
for programs, to which visitors helped them- 

2 



EARLY HISTORY 

selves. Rows of rude benches served the spec- 
tators for seats. There were no uniformed 
ushers, nor were there dainty maidens — save 
the mark — flitting up and down the aisles, 
to direct our grandsires to their places. 

The form of entertainment was very simple 
in those days. Theatrical entertainments were 
not permitted there, so the Boston Museum 
and Gallery of Fine Arts was primarily a mu- 
seum of ' curiosities, with a platform enter- 
tainment which all good people could go to 
see ; if they wished, they could also stay and 
hear the musical olio, consisting of solos on 
glass bells, and birch-bark whistling. This 
form of entertainment was not considered 
ungodly, if taken as a side issue with per- 
forming elephants or trick canaries. All the 
stars of the vaudeville world of that day were 
connected with the platform entertainment at 
various times. In point of fact, the so-called 
vaudeville idea was Americanized at the Boston 
Museum. This showed the foresight of Moses 

3 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Kimball, and when I see the blaze of electricity 
in front of the theaters and amusement places 
of to-day, I can see where Mr. Kimball antici- 
pated all that kind of advertising when he put 
the rows of white-globed lights in front of the 
Boston Museum. 

The first dramatic entertainment given in 
the Boston Museum occurred in 1843, and it 
proved successful from the start. The au- 
dience grew so rapidly that the old Museum 
was not adequate, so in 1846, the famous play- 
house that many of us remember as the joy of 
our childhood was erected on Tremont Street, 
between School and Court Streets, and from 
that time it became a Boston institution. 

It was carried on successfully, without a 
break, for nearly fifty years, often against 
powerful competition. I doubt if any other 
theater in this country existed with such un- 
deviating prosperity for such a long period of 
time. Think of it ! A stock company system 
for nearly fifty years ! A meeting-place where 

4 




The Boston Museum in 1876 




Copyright, 1903, by N. L. Stebbins. 

The Boston Museum in 1903 



EARLY HISTORY 

those who did not wish to be regarded as 
theatergoers could visit without a blush, — 
many of the regular habitues of the Boston 
Museum, even after it had become much more 
of a theater than a museum, fondly believed they 
were not attending a regular playhouse. 

William H. Smith, the first stage manager, 
was an able, scholarly, and sterling actor. The 
members of the Company at that time were 
Mr. and Mrs. Thoman, Mr. and Mrs. Germon, 
Thomas Comer, C. W. Hunt, G. H. Wyeth, 
C. H. Saunders, and Adelaide Phillips, who 
began her career as a child dancer, doing nautical 
hornpipes between the acts. She was billed 
as "The Child of Avon" and was then nine 
years old. 

Very careful attention was given to the 
selection of plays. The moral feature of the 
play was largely advertised on the bill, which 
contained also an offer of one hundred dollars 
for the best moral drama adapted to the uses 
of the Museum Stock Company. 

S 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

About that time "The Drunkard," or "The 
Fallen Saved" was produced with great suc- 
cess. Mrs. Germon in an interview said that 
she played the wife of the "drunkard" for 
one hundred consecutive nights, and on one 
occasion, when there was a vigorous, temper- 
ance demonstration in town, the play was 
given five times in one day. 

The dramatic entertainment, with selections 
between the acts, and the instructive exhibi- 
tion in the Curio Halls, was offered to the 
public for twenty-five cents, "without age or 
distinction," according to the program. 

Mr. Kimball practically retired from man- 
agerial duties in i860, because of his interest 
in State affairs, — he was a member of the 
Legislature. His most important services to 
the city were on the various boards of 
charitable and kindred societies. In 1879 he 
commissioned the sculptor, Thomas Ball, to 
make a replica of his bronze group emblematic 
of Emancipation, which had been set up in 

6 



EARLY HISTORY 

Washington. Mr. Kimball presented this 
duplicate to the city of Boston, and it was 
placed in Park Square. 

Among the notable artists appearing at the 
Boston Museum from 1850 to 1872 were 
Charlotte Cushman, Mrs. E. L. Davenport, 
Barry Sullivan, James W. Wallack, George 
Vandenhoff, Mrs. Farren, Eliza Logan, Mr. 
and Mrs. Waller, Edwin Adams, the elder 
Booth, and his son Edwin Booth — who made 
his debut at the Museum in 1849, playing 
Tressel to his father's Richard III, — Mathilda 
Heron, Kate Reignolds, Josie Orton, Agnes 
Robertson, wife of Dion Boucicault, L. R. 
Shewell, Walter Montgomery, Rose Skerritt, 
Mrs. Judah, C. W. Couldock, Mr. and Mrs. 
Conway, E. F. Keach, Mrs. George H. Barrett, 
Mrs. Barrow, Peter and Caroline Richings, 
John Wilson, husband of Mrs. Vincent, Kate 
Denin, Charlotte Thompson, Mrs. John Drew, 
— all shining lights whom I regret to say I 
never had the pleasure of hearing or meeting. 

7 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Until a few years before his death, Moses 
Kimball retained proprietorship and control 
of the Boston Museum. The management of 
its affairs was in the able hands of Mr. R. M. 
Field, but always under the vigilant supervi- 
sion of Mr. Kimball, who was energetic and 
vigorous till the end. He died at the age of 
eighty-six, in the year 1895, at his home in 
Brookline, Massachusetts. 



8 




V 



rt 




CHAPTER II 

My First Visit to the Boston Museum 

I BEGAN my career at the Boston Museum 
in 1872, and from that time until its close, 
in 1893, remained a member of the Company. 
I am forced from now on to talk about myself, 
so that I may bring the reader more intimately 
into touch with the distinguished men and 
women with whom I was associated for more 
than twenty years. 

My own stage life has been comparatively 
uneventful as my entire theatrical career, with 
the exception of occasional short engagements, 
has been in Boston. I was born on Hanover 
Street, at the North End, right around the 
corner from the Cushman School, and by a 
happy chance, on Shakespeare's birthday, April 
23, 1857. 

9 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

My family did not approve of the playhouse, 
and before I made my first appearance, they 
knew very little of the "make-believe" world. 
My first recollection of plays of any kind is of 
a Punch and Judy show, given on Boston 
Common. Before I went on the stage, I had 
been inside a theater just once ; that, curiously 
enough, was the Boston Museum, and the first 
play I saw was "The School for Scandal." It 
was in this play that I made my first appear- 
ance the following season. 

It was merely by chance that I went to the 
theater that single time. I started out one 
evening to go to a Sunday School concert at 
Horticultural Hall with one of the teachers. 
We were late and, as she was either too proud 
or too diffident to go in after the concert had 
begun, she played truant, and took me to the 
Boston Museum. My mother, who never 
failed to attend affairs connected with the 
church, was unable to go on that evening, else I 
should not have had that delightful experience. 

10 



FIRST VISIT TO BOSTON MUSEUM 

It was all so beautiful ! Even the large blue 
pasteboard ticket, marked fifteen cents, which 
admitted me to the gallery ! And the or- 
chestra ! I can almost hear it now. Never 
was music like it since ! Oh ! it was all so 
joyous. And the curtain ! How I enjoyed the 
picture. It represented a little black boy perched 
on a wall, and he seemed to be grinning and nod- 
ding at me, and I grinned back and nodded my 
head and kicked my feet in time with the music. 
Electric lights never will be so bright as were 
those brilliant gas lights on that night. 

I remember I sat far, far up in the gallery, 
and the whole performance was as unreal as 
a dream. Mrs. Vincent, who played Mrs. 
Candour, I remember, struck me as being very 
funny ; she seemed like a lovely, chubby doll. 
Then, too, the scandal scene amused me ex- 
ceedingly. When the actors laughed on the 
stage, I laughed also. When I saw the Punch 
and Judy show, I realized that the characters 
were marionettes, and I looked for the strings 

II 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

by which these actors were worked. But when 
it was explained to me that these actors were 
real people, I was seriously impressed. From 
that moment I was stage-struck. 

You may remember the Sir Peter and Lady 
Teazle scene in the school reading-books of 
that time ? At once I learned the scene by 
heart and, barricaded in my bedroom, with a 
sheet for a train, and a large palm-leaf fan 
in my hand, I recited and acted, — playing 
both parts with wonderful satisfaction to my- 
self. I could think of nothing else but the 
theater. It became an obsession. I saw noth- 
ing but a brilliant career ahead of me. 

One day, a short time after that, with a 
throbbing heart, I mounted the long flight of 
stairs leading to the box office of the Museum, 
and there I made known my ambition to 
become an actress. The situation being some- 
what novel, the ticket-seller was amused and, 
seeing an opportunity for a joke, he sent me In 
pursuit of the manager, R. M. Field, who was 

12 



FIRST VISIT TO BOSTON MUSEUM 

superintending the renovation of the theater 
at the time. 

I shall never forget my perilous effort in 
trying to reach him. Skipping over dug-up 
floors, through a hopeless chaos of debris, at 
last I reached the man. I can tell you I was 
very much in earnest. I know I said a number 
of things before he realized I was there, and 
not until I tugged at his coat sleeve and had 
made known my desire to become an actress, 
did he evince any interest in my fifteen-year- 
old self. I remember his attitude was not a 
bit encouraging. 

"Can you sing?" he asked. 

"No, sir," I said, "but I can learn." 

"Can you dance ?" 

"No, sir, but I can learn." 

He wasn't much impressed with my willing- 
ness, and concluded that there was no place 
for me in the Museum, and hurriedly disap- 
peared. But my heart was set on being an 
actress, and I followed him into his private 

13 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

office, resuming again my earnest appeal, and 
impressing upon him the fact that I should 
remain until he granted my request! My 
persistency was rewarded, and he said I might 
report for rehearsal the next Thursday morning, 
the opening of the season. Mr. Field was so 
dignified and autocratic that my childish 
persistency and pursuit of him I have always 
remembered as a funny incident. Let me tell 
you that later I avoided him as diligently as I 
that day pursued him. 

At last the great day of the rehearsal came, 
and I appeared on the scene an hour too early 
for the appointment ! To pass the time, I 
decided to roam through the corridors, and I 
shall never forget the childhood joy of my 
first peep into the wonders of the cases that 
lined the corridors of the Boston Museum. I 
especially admired the case where Gulliver and 
his Lilliputian tormentors were, and I must 
confess that long after I had become a grown- 
up, I longed to linger before that group. 

14 



FIRST VISIT TO BOSTON MUSEUM 

At last I found myself mounting the stairs 
to the Wax Gallery. There were very few 
people about, and I recall even now the thrills 
of pleasure and horror I experienced as I looked 
into the cases. The schoolroom amused and 
interested me. The wax schoolmaster was so 
funny; and the scholars had such little, dis- 
torted, wax faces ; and the dunce, with his cap 
of wax, looked so absurd in the corner ! Oh ! 
the creepy feeling of horror that came over me 
as I looked into the Pirates' Cabin ! And the 
different chambers where the ghastly stages of 
intemperance were displayed ! And the mas- 
sacre of poor Jane JVIcCrae by the Indians ! 
Poor Jane looked very real, besmeared with 
sealing-wax blood ! 

After that I was delighted to look upon jolly, 
fat Daniel Lambert, sitting so comfortably in 
his big easy-chair, with a foaming mug of ale. 
But — I remember that the cotton batting 
foam on the ale was very dusty. 

I have been told that the best of the natural 

IS 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

history specimens were sent to the Natural 
History Society, but no one really knows what 
has become of the wax figures. I heard that 
the more serious groups were bought by a 
speculative showman. I never knew of their 
being exhibited, but I can't help wondering 
where poor Jane McCrae is. 

By the time the hour had arrived for my 
appointment I had reached the stage door. After 
I entered, my first real shock came from the 
lack of regal splendor. I expected to find red 
velvet carpets and gold decorations. It was 
like a tomb ! I remember the stage doorkeeper 
was very surly on that occasion, and the first 
realization of my own unimportance came 
through him. 

Following his brusque directions, I wedged 
myself through aisles of dusty scenery, dis- 
arranging, to my disgust, my specially prepared 
toilet. There is something in the feminine 
nature which makes us always remember what 
we wore on any eventful occasion of our lives, 

16 



FIRST VISIT TO BOSTON MUSEUM 

and my personal appearance on this first visit 
is still vividly pictured in my mind. 

My hair, brown and curly, was unusually 
frizzed for that occasion. I know I must have 
looked like an Albino. I wore my very best 
starched pique dress, bunched out with layers 
and layers of starched petticoats, reaching to 
the tops of my adored bronze boots with tassels. 
Just at that time a popular song, "Tassels on 
Her Boots," was being sung. 

" Tassels on her boots, 
That's the style that suits 
The Boston girl with her hair in curls 
And tassels on her boots." 

Finally I reached the stage. My first rehearsal 
seemed like a peep into fairyland. It was all 
too wonderful to be true. The actors were 
gathered about the stage in groups for the 
entire Company had been called to report 
that morning after a summer vacation. They 
all seemed very merry and glad to begin 
work. The play was "The School for Scan- 

17 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

dal," and I made my first appearance as a 
court lady, one of the guests in the scandal 
scene. 

My first stage gown gave me much serious 
thought. My mother assisted me in the 
making of it, despite her Puritanical prejudice, 
and when the gown was completed, she declared 
it was too handsome to be worn in the play- 
house. It was composed of cretonne beauti- 
fully flowered (supposed to be brocade), with 
an elaborate court train over a quilted petticoat 
of (satin finished) cambric. The colors were 
pale blue and coral pink, and the whole costume 
was beautifully trimmed with spangles. It had 
a decidedly pointed bodice, stiffly boned, a 
V-neck, elbow sleeves, lace frills, powdered wig, 
and patches, with black velvet at the throat. 
To complete the costume, many jewels made of 
colored tinsel were worn. I carried a dainty 
fan of swansdown, with silver paper appliqued 
to represent a vanity mirror, as was used on 
fans of that period ; my shoes had buckles to 

18 



FIRST VISIT TO BOSTON MUSEUM 

match. The costume was absolutely correct as 
to detail, and its memory is still beautiful to me. 
Miss Annie Clarke was very kind and helpful 
to me as a beginner. I remember she told me 
many stories of her own early struggles. She 
said she also made her first Lady Teazle gown 
herself, cutting it out after the matinee on a 
Saturday. It was finished after she reached 
home at night (the old-fashioned, straight 
breadths of brocaded satin were easily stitched 
on the machine), polished off on Monday 
morning, and worn on Monday night. She 
said that often she sat up two or three hours 
after getting home from the play at night, to 
put in fresh laces or to alter a gown for the next 
night's performance. At that time it was a 
common thing to change the bill daily, but the 
stage costuming was much simpler than now. 
The heroines In old comedies did well to dis- 
play one fine gown in a play ; nor did they even 
dream of three fine gowns, such as many 
actresses are called upon to wear nowadays. 

19 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

No one ever secured an engagement before 
or since, I am sure, who was so entirely igno- 
rant of everything pertaining to the stage. I 
remember " Richard III" was to be played, 
and I, who was to be one of the pages, was told 
to provide myself with a pair of trunks. I was 
much distressed. One trunk, I thought 
perhaps I could get, but a couple of them was 
a deal too much to ask. Dear Annie Clarke 
took me aside and explained that trunks were 
a part of the costume, and advised me to get 
a couple of yards of brown cambric, costing ten 
cents, and she would devise the garment. A 
very much distressed girl was thus made happy. 
Miss Clarke was always doing some such kindly 
thing. 

I was an awful nuisance. I failed to attend 
rehearsals ; I thought any time would do. And 
when I was sharply reprimanded and asked 
where I was, I meekly answered, "Oh, just at 
home." 

"But why not at the theater?" 
20 




P4 




rvj 



* 



FIRST VISIT TO BOSTON MUSEUM 

"Well, I didn't hear anybody tell me to be 
there." 

"But the rehearsal was down on the call. 
Why didn't you look at the call board?" 

I didn't know what a call board meant, or 
that all actors, before leaving the theater, are 
supposed to look thereat for announcements. 

Mr. Fred Williams was stage manager at 
that time, and I shall always remember him 
with gratefulness. He overlooked so many of 
my faults, and he treated those of us who were 
in the ranks with courtesy and consideration. 

Mr. Field, a dignified, autocratic gentleman, 
was rarely in evidence. He never interfered 
with stage directions, yet nothing escaped his 
ever-vigilant eye. He was quick to perceive 
merit, and never failed to show appreciation. 
Often an actor would find an extra bill in his 
pay envelope, when he had played a part at 
short notice. 

Mr. Moses Kimball, the founder of the 
Museum, had a striking personality. He im- 

21 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

pressed me as being very fatherly and kind and, 
with his long beard, he looked like a patriarch. 
I remember speaking to him just once. 
Shortly after joining the Company, I met him 
in the corridor, and he said : 

"Well, little maiden, I suppose you expect to 
be an actress some day?" 

I was somewhat surprised, and said: "Oh, 
sir, I am one now." 

He laughed good-naturedly, and merely said : 
"So?" 

The members in the Company, when I joined 
it in August, of 1872, included: William 
Warren, Mrs. J. R. Vincent, Annie Clarke, 
Charles Barron, Mr. and Mrs. Fred Williams, 
Frank Hardenberg, Fanny Marsh, R. F. 
McClannin, his wife, Fanny Skerritt, James 
Nolan, J. A. Smith, J. H. Ring, James Burrows, 
E. N. Catlin, J. R. Pitman, Nate Salsbury, Frank 
Carlos, R. H. Lucas, H. N. Wilson, W. S. Mason, 
Amy Ames, Margaret Parker, Nellie Downing, 
Josie Wright. Miss Watkins, Miss Bowne, Miss 

22 



FIRST VISIT TO BOSTON MUSEUM 

Marden, and myself were utility ladies, be- 
ginners in the ranks. 

It was splendid training to grow up in the 
theater where the standard plays were done 
over and over again ; it had a great many 
advantages, among which was a thorough 
knowledge of what was played, root and branch. 
Only a newcomer, one who had the limited 
experience of playing one part, could make 
the mistake of the youth in Booth's company, 
who asked, when "Hamlet" was in preparation, 
whether it was to be done from manuscript or 
printed book. As the old, experienced actors 
retired, there were players in the ranks 
equipped for the emergencies and ready to 
fill the gap. Many of those who began at the 
Museum remained twenty-five and thirty 
years. Think what so long a professional life 
in a single theater means, in comparison to 
these days of constantly rising stars and 
shifting satellites. Does not the fact that they 
could retain the favor of their audiences for 

23 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

so long speak volumes for the brilliancy of 
their work ? 

All honor and praise is due to that quartet 
of artists who did more than any of their con- 
temporaries to establish the Boston Museum in 
that eminent position among American theaters 
which is so creditable to it and so gratifying to 
local pride — Charles Barron, Annie Clarke, 
Mrs. Vincent, and William Warren ! With 
how many of the memories and the traditions 
of the city are those four names identified. 



24 



CHAPTER III 

William Warren 

WILLIAM WARREN — gentleman, 
scholar, and actor ! And what an 
actor he was ! The mere mention of his name 
recalls to old theatergoers his surprising versatil- 
ity. We who remember him as the dignified Sir 
Peter Teazle, Tony Lumpkin, Doctor Primrose, 
Jesse Rural in "Old Heads and Young Hearts ", 
Doctor Pangloss in "Heir-at-Law", Jefferson 
Scattering Batkins in "The Silver Spoon ", 
Triplet in "Masks and Faces", Dogberry, 
Touchstone, Polonius, Jacques Faurel, Papa 
Perrichon, Poor Pillicoddy, "Box and Cox," and 
so on, name after name, marvel at the series 
of characterizations, and the wonder of his 
natural blending of humor with pathos. He 
is said to have studied seven hundred roles. 

25 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

William Warren was born in Philadelphia, 
November 17, 1812, on Sansom Street. He 
came of a player family, was given an excellent 
education, and was intended for a commercial 
career; but before plans were matured, his 
father died, leaving the family in straitened 
circumstances. Young William, feeling his re- 
sponsibility as the chief support of the family, 
soon decided to follow his father's profession. 
The opportunity offered itself when some of 
his father's friends arranged a benefit for the 
family, and William made his debut at the 
Arch Street Theater, in 1832, as young Norval 
in the play of "Douglas", which, by a curious 
chance, was the first part that his father 
played. For nearly nine years he led the life 
of a strolling player, wandering through remote 
regions of the West, acting in barns, log houses, 
sheds, and schoolhouses, but under all condi- 
tions with sincerity of purpose. 

Mr. Warren's first appearance in Boston was 
•at the Howard Athenaeum in 1846, in "The 

26 



WILLIAM WARREN 

Rivals", in which he played the part of Sir 
Lucius O'Trigger. On August 27, 1847, he 
joined the Boston Museum Stock Company, 
playing Billy Lackaday in " Sweethearts and 
Wives." Mr. Charles W. Hunt, a popular 
comedian at the Boston Museum in those days, 
left the Company because of some misunder- 
standing with the management, and William 
Warren stepped into his place. Mr. Hunt had 
been such a favorite that everybody felt his 
place could not be filled, and that failure was 
ahead for the Boston Museum. But it was not 
long before Mr. Warren had endeared himself 
to the public, and for thirty-six years, barring 
one season when he starred with his own com- 
pany, he was identified with that famous old 
playhouse. 

The break of one year occurred in 1 864-1 865. 
While his starring venture, under the name of 
the Warren-Orton Combination, was a great 
success, he preferred to return to the Boston 
Museum, that had become his home. The 

27 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

members of the Combination were Miss Josie 
Orton, Charles Barron, and Emily Mestayer. 
Mr. Warren always disliked traveling and its 
discomforts. I have more than once heard 
him refer to that nomadic season as a time of 
miserable unhappiness and utter homesickness. 
I remember once, when a younger member of 
the company was complaining of a change of 
bills and hard study, Mr. Warren said in his 
inimitable way : "Take my word for it, it is 
preferable to one-night stands in Oshkosh, 
Peoria, or Skowhegan." Traveling and hotels 
were not especially luxurious in those days, and 
I imagine that the " welcome of the inn" was 
not so graciously extended to the strolling 
player fifty years ago as to the actor of reputa- 
tion to-day. 

Mr. Warren made his reappearance as Doc- 
tor Pangloss in the "Heir-at-Law." I have 
been told that never was an actor more 
heartily welcomed. They applauded him on 
every entrance, so eager were they to show their 

28 



WILLIAM WARREN 

appreciation of his worth and his loyalty to 
the Museum and its patrons, to whom he 
had become endeared. He remained at the 
Museum to the end of his career, playing 
all kinds of parts. 

Up to 1880, farces were always on the theat- 
rical menu, as many as five sometimes being 
given in one night. There was rarely a pro- 
gram of a serious character that was not pre- 
ceded by a farce. The Morton farces, " Betsey 
Baker", "Poor Pillicoddy", etc., were most 
popular in those days. Their faults were 
indeed evident, but they gave great pleasure 
to theatergoers. Who that has seen William 
Warren in "Box and Cox" and "Poor Pilli- 
coddy" will ever forget those evenings of 
wholesome, happy laughter that began with 
the rising of the curtain and lasted till it fell ? 

It was when Mr. Warren was playing Pilli- 
coddy that a young Irishman, fresh from the 
sod, sitting in the gallery, was heard to shriek 
out, through a gale of laughter, "Warren, 

29 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Warren, for the love of man, hould up, or 
I'll niver be able to go to me wurk in the 
mornin'." How delightful to Irish hearts was 
his playing of Dennis O'Rourke and the 
charm of his Father Doolan in "The Shaugh- 
raun." 

Dickens' characters were his special joy. He 
reveled in Micawber. I never saw him as Joe 
Gargery in "Great Expectations", but Miss 
Clarke told me that in her early youth she 
played the boy part "Pip", and speaking of 
Mr. Warren's acting, she said, "What a Gar- 
gery he was !" 

Many of his famous characters come vividly 
to my mind. The memory of his rendition of 
Jefferson Scattering Batkins in "The Silver 
Spoon" will bring forth a laugh from Warren 
lovers even to-day. At one time I played the 
part of Abbie Bacon in that play, and in the 
scene where Batkins encountered the sardines for 
the first time, I had great difficulty in restrain- 
ing my mirth. 

30 




r3 
U 



5 




":£ 



WILLIAM WARREN 

Those who have seen him in the part cannot 
fail to again enjoy these lines : 

Batkins. Then this luncheon is for me, 
Abbie ? What's them in the tin box ? 

Abbie. Sardines, they call them. 

Batkins. Sour beans ! What do they do with 
the critters ? 

Abbie. Eat um. 

Batkins. Eat um ! What, raw ? They got 
ile all over them, lamp ile ! Abbie, they 
smell like fishes. 

Abbie. Well, they be fishes. 

Batkins. Well, sit down and take a little bite 
along with me. Ain't you hungry ? 

Abbie. No, Mr. Batkins. If I was, I know 
my place. It's not for me, a poor servant 
girl, to set down and eat with you. You 
are a great man, — a captain in the legis- 
lature. 

Batkins. We're all born free and equil. 
Abbie, there's a great responsibility on 
31 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

me. {He sits down, tucks a napkin under 
his chin?) So I must eat those little fishes 
biled in ile, eh, with crackers and lemons 
mixed ? Did you ever eat any on um, 
Abbie ? 

Abbie. No, sir. 

Batkins. I should like to see somebody do it 
first. {He makes unsuccessful efforts to pick 
one out.) Why, the tails ain't strong 
enough to hold um. 

Abbie. Use the fork, sir. 

Batkins. Oh, that's the way, is it ? {He picks 
one up on the fork, offering it to Abbie.) 
Abbie, you try one. You dassent. Come, 
Abbie, let's see you do it. 

Abbie. They're for the gentlemen, sir. 

Batkins. Well, I s'pose I must eat um. 

Abbie. Just as you please, sir. 

Batkins. Set down, Abbie. 

Abbie. No, sir, I'm here to wait upon you. 
{After some difficulty he manages to swallow 
a fish and makes faces as though nauseated.) 
32 



WILLIAM WARREN 

Batkins. I can't go sardines ; they won't 

stay down, by Jonah. • 
Abbie. The gentlefolks drink some of that 

stuff in the bottle when they swim in their 

stomachs. 
Batkins. Swim ! Why, ain't the fishes dead ? 

(He becomes very much nauseated.) 
Abbie. Take a drink from the bottle, sir ; 

perhaps it will help to keep um down. 

(He drinks and smacks his lips.) 
Batkins. Well, that does go to the right spot, 

by Jonah. 

This play of "The Silver Spoon" in which 
Mr. Warren presented Jefferson Scattering 
Batkins, Member of the Massachusetts Leg- 
islature from Cranberry Center, never failed 
to pack the house. The play held the stage 
for more than twenty years and it was always 
customary to put it on a week every year, at 
the assembling of the General Court. 

His performance of Herr Weigel in "My 

33 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Son" was a masterpiece and wonderfully true 
to life. I played Marie, the young girl whom 
his son betrayed, and when the father (Herr 
Weigel) discovers the situation, a stormy scene 
takes place between father and son. I was 
supposed to faint at the close of the scene. I 
had never fainted on the stage and was very 
nervous, but on the night of the performance, 
Mr. Warren's acting was so real that I gave 
way to the situation and was completely over- 
powered, and fell helplessly to the ground with- 
out any effort. I received much flattering 
praise for the artistic effect of that fall, but I 
can assure you there was no effect premedi- 
tated. I was simply swayed by emotion, and 
dropped to the ground unconscious of my sur- 
roundings. 

I remember standing in the wings with Miss 
Clarke one night when Mr. Warren was playing 
Jacques Faurel in "One Hundred Years Old." 
In the moment of his most exquisite pathos, 
some boor in the audience laughed. Mr. 

34 



WILLIAM WARREN 

Warren's face flushed, and his lips trembled. 
Miss Clarke's eyes overflowed with tears of 
rage and compassion. That laugher would 
have fared ill if any member of our Company 
could have laid hands on him. 

How often we have laughed or wept with 
him almost in the same breath. His own 
nature, genuine and sincere, was shown in his 
acting. As I remember Mr. Warren, I feel 
that age depends much on the way one carries 
it. He always maintained his delight in youth. 
He was never heard speaking of the good old 
times, as some people call them, but was al- 
ways expecting greater things of those growing 
up, in all of whom he was ever deeply interested. 

Mr. Warren never married. For forty years 
he lived in a quaint, old-fashioned house on 
Bulfinch Place. His hostess was Miss Amelia 
Fisher, a life-honored friend. Mr. Warren was 
the first boarder, and those select few who had 
the happiness of being admitted later to this 
haven of rest were fortunate indeed. Among 

35 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

them were Joseph Jefferson, Henry Irving, and 
Fechter. Mr. Warren was the only guest per- 
mitted the use of a latchkey, and it was said 
that Miss Fisher never retired until all her 
guests were safely in. 

The players met in the kitchen for their 
supper after the evening's labor — and what 
a dear little kitchen it was ! The colored, 
braided mats on the floor, the flour-barrel 
dressed in flowered chintz, the shining dish 
covers hanging on the wall, the highly polished 
stove that might well serve as a mirror — and 
the kettle boiling and singing as an interlude to 
the merry jests and brilliant interchange of ideas ! 
What a restful joy to the poor wayfarers ! 

Mr. Warren was given a golden jubilee on 
his fiftieth anniversary as an actor. After- 
noon and evening performances were arranged, 
— "The Heir-at-Law" in the afternoon and 
"The School for Scandal" in the evening, — 
with Mr. Warren appearing as Doctor Pan- 
gloss and Sir Peter Teazle. 

36 



WILLIAM WARREN 

The interior of the theater was beautifully- 
decorated, and the foyer was transformed into 
a veritable garden. The boxes were festooned 
with laurel leaves and smilax, interspersed 
with gorgeous-hued autumn leaves and bright 
flowers. At the foot of the stairs, in the inner 
lobby, was a portrait of Mr. Warren painted 
by Frederick P. Vinton, by the order of many 
Bostonians who wished to retain for all time 
in this city the living likeness of our greatest 
comedian. The orchestra was banished from 
its original place, and a life-sized bust of Mr. 
Warren placed in its stead. 

i A more brilliantly attired audience was never 
seen in Boston; indeed, the term "brilliant" 
is inadequate to express the appearance of the 
great gathering. Prominent representatives 
of all professions, the clergy not excepted, 
were present. Every available space was filled, 
more than seventeen hundred people attending 
in the evening, and more than eleven hundred 
in the afternoon. The world of fashion and 

37 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

society, and more humble admirers as well, 
were all there to pay homage to the actor. 

The applause was tumultuous on the appear- 
ance of Mr. Warren, who was greatly affected 
by his reception. His voice trembled, and his 
eyes were filled with tears. He was deluged 
with flowers, gold and silver gifts, messages 
from all over the world. At the close of the 
screen scene, he came forward to receive a 
greeting as hearty as that which met him on 
his first entrance. 

| Mr. Warren avoided intimacy with the au- 
dience in his work on the stage, and I never 
knew him to address an audience in his own 
words, but this was a signal occasion. He 
gracefully acknowledged the compliment and 
then spoke as follows : 

" Ladies and Gentlemen, perhaps on such an 
occasion as this, I may be permitted to come 
nearer to you and address you as patrons and 
friends. It may be a questionable matter whether 
the fiftieth anniversary of the year of any man's 
life should be a matter of congratulation rather 

38 



WILLIAM WARREN 

than perhaps one of sympathy or condolence. 
You seem, however, most emphatically to rank 
it with the former, and certainly I have no 
cause to class it with the latter. To have lived 
in this city of Boston happily for more than 
five and thirty years, engaged in so good and 
successful a theater as this and cheered always 
by your favor, and then to have that residence 
crowned by such an assemblage as I see before 
me, is glory enough for one poor player. My 
humble efforts have never gained for me any 
of the great prizes of my profession until now, 
but failing to reach the summit of Parnassus, 
it is something to have found so snug a nook 
in the mountain side. I came here to thank 
you and I do thank you from the very bottom 
of my heart. I have some grateful acknowl- 
edgments to make to others — to the gentle- 
men of the committee of arrangements, as well 
as to those who presented the painting by the 
artist; to the gentlemen of the press, to the 
manager of this theater, and to the ladies and 
gentlemen engaged in it. Also, I should name 
several distinguished volunteers, — Mr. Barna- 
bee, who was the first to offer his services, 
Edwin Booth, Lester Wallack, John McCul- 
lough, Lawrence Barrett and last, but not 
least, Miss Mary Anderson, and Mrs. John 
Drew. And now, ladies and gentlemen, I 
wish that all present within the sound of my 
voice may by some event in life be made as 
happy as you have made me to-day by this 
event in mine." 

39 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

At the conclusion of the act, a chorus of 
fifty ladies and gentlemen who, unknown to 
Mr. Warren, had volunteered their services, 
and were stationed behind the scenes, sang 
"Auld Lang Syne" till the curtain fell, shutting 
out from view the grand old actor. It was 
very impressive, and there were many tear- 
dimmed eyes in the audience. 

Another pleasant surprise awaited Mr. Warren 
at his home in Bulfinch Place, — a beautiful 
loving-cup made of beaten silver and lined with 
gold, an exquisite work of art, bearing the 
following inscription : 

"To WILLIAM WARREN, on the comple- 
tion of his fiftieth year on the stage, October 
27, 1882, from Joseph Jefferson, Edwin Booth, 
Mary Anderson, John McCullough, and Law- 
rence Barrett." 

The committee which had charge of the gift 
included Mr. William Winter of the New York 
Tribune, Mr. James R. Osgood, Captain 
Nathan Appleton, Mr. F. P. Vinton, the artist, 

40 



WILLIAM WARREN 

Manager R. M. Field, and Mr. T. R. Sullivan. 
The presentation speech was made by Mr. 
Winter. 

Each member of the Company was presented 
with a personal letter as follows : 

To the Ladies and Gentlemen 

of 

The Boston Museum Company 

of 1882-3. 

It is with mingled feelings of pride and 
pleasure that I acknowledge the beautiful gifts 
of gold, silver, and flowers, presented to me on 
this, my seventieth birthday. 

Coming from my professional associates, who 
know me best, they were received with a double 
zest, and will always be cherished through my 
remaining years with the liveliest sense of 
gratitude towards you, the liberal donors. 

That all happiness, success and prosperity 
may attend you is the sincere wish of 

Yours most respectfully, 

William Warren 

I have seen Mr. Warren play Sir Peter many, 
many times, but never have I seen him give 
such a performance as on that evening. He 
seemed inspired. I was fortunate in being 

4i 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

cast for Lady Sneerwell in "The School for 
Scandal", and the memory of that occasion 
will be forever cherished in my mind. How 
proud his associates were ! How we honored 
and respected him, and yet, after all that ad- 
ulation of his golden jubilee, he appeared 
among us at the next rehearsal and resumed 
his work with the simplicity of manner that 
was characteristic of that great man. As a 
guide in dramatic art, he was an inspiration. 

The last part he played was Old Eccles 
in "Caste." It always seemed a pity to 
me that he could not have finished his 
career with something more worthy of him, 
when one remembers his splendid rendition of 
Jacques Faurel, Doctor Primrose, or Jesse 
Rural, either one of which would have been a 
much more delightful memory for us to retain 
for all time. 

He retired in May, 1883, after more than 
half a century of honest, faithful work. There 
were no farewell speeches, no flourishes. He 

42 



WILLIAM WARREN 

retired as he lived among us, a modest, un- 
assuming gentleman, and he never visited the 
Museum again. He spent the last five years 
of his life in the home he loved, surrounded 
by friends and his books. His was a famil- 
iar figure on Boston streets. Every one knew 
him, and each face he met was the face of a 
friend. 

Mr. Warren died September 21, 1888, at his 
home on Bulfinch Place, after a short illness, 
and was -buried at Mt. Auburn Cemetery. 
The funeral services were held at Trinity 
Church, Reverend Phillips Brooks officiating. 

The longer I live, the more I appreciate my 
humble association with William Warren, — 
gentleman, scholar, and actor. 



43 



D 



CHAPTER IV 
Mrs. J. R. Vincent 
EAR, kindly Mrs. Vincent, beloved by 



all, — a name never to be forgotten ! 
Who that remember her but recall the jolly, 
chubby, little figure, the bobbing curls, the 
inimitable, trippy walk, and the gasping, 
pleasant voice, all suggestive of mirth and 
merriment. Her appearance on the stage was 
a signal for a rousing reception, and she had an 
amusing little trick of speaking outside before 
she appeared, which prepared the audience for 
her coming. How irresistible was her quaint 
curtsying ! She would pick up her skirt at 
both sides and bob first to one side and then 
to the other, with that merry little twinkle in 
her eye that never failed to captivate her au- 
dience. She was adored by the Boston public. 

44 



MRS. J. R. VINCENT 

Mrs. Vincent was born in Portland, England, 
September 18, 1818. Her maiden name was 
Mary Ann Farley. Her father was an Irish- 
man, and held a good position in the navy 
department of England. 

She had a natural fondness for the stage, and 
at sixteen made her first appearance as Lucy 
in "The Review." When she was seventeen, 
she married J. R. Vincent, and together they 
played through England, Ireland, and Scot- 
land. She used to tell many interesting stories 
of their hardships in the early forties. They 
did not use conveyances ; traveling meant 
footing it ; and they were real barnstormers. 
But they were a happy couple, and when they 
came to America, in 1846, they were able to 
enjoy a home life for the first time. 

Mrs. Vincent would often speak of her arrival 
in America. She was very homesick, and 
loathed America and its customs. She con- 
fessed later that this was largely due to the 
tempestuous voyage that had lasted seventeen 

45 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

days, and it took her some time to get her sea 
legs adjusted. Their first Boston appearance 
was at the old National Theater, November n, 
1846, under the management of William Pelby, 
in Buckstone's "Popping the Question." They 
both played here successfully until 1850, 
when Mr. Vincent died very suddenly. Mrs. 
Vincent remained as a member of the Company 
until the burning of the theater, April 22, 
1852. She joined the Museum Company the 
same year, appearing as Mrs. Pontifex in 
" Naval Engagements", and from that date 
until her death in the fall of 1887, she was 
absent but one period, — the year 1 861-1862, 
when she played at the Holliday Street Theater, 
Baltimore, and also in the support of Edwin 
Forrest. In 1853, at the age of thirty-five, 
she married John Wilson, but the marriage was 
not a happy one. Mr. Wilson died in 1881. 
Mrs. Vincent was at the Boston Museum 
thirty-five years. She told me that in the 
early days her salary was twelve dollars a week 

46 



MRS. J. R. VINCENT 

and a couple of "bones." These "bones" 
were good for two seats at the Museum, and 
could be exchanged with the butcher or grocer 
for household supplies. 

She also told me with what joy she hailed 
the advent of the horse-car. Her daily traveling 
hitherto was mostly by Mr. Murphy's omnibus 
that stopped at the Museum for passengers, and 
left at ten o'clock, Mr. Murphy announcing, 
"Visitors, visitors, step lively! This bus goes 
on down through Washington Street, on off 
up through Roxbury ! Fare twelve and a 
half cents." 

Mrs. Vincent was very domestic, and her 
love of home was perhaps stronger because of 
her early struggles in the barnstorming days. 
She was the soul of hospitality, and those who 
were fortunate enough to be her guests were 
well fed and entertained by the good lady. 
The culinary department was her special pleas- 
ure. Each year mincemeat, pickles, jellies, and 
jams were put up by her own fair hands 

47 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

and generously shared with members of the 
Company. Her plum puddings were renowned. 

I recall one Christmas when we were playing 
in a very gloomy town in New England. We 
were stopping at a boarding-house, as there 
was no available hotel in the place, and Oh ! it 
was cold with no furnace or steam-heat, and 
only an air-tight stove in the parlor — or 
" Drawing Room " — as was printed in large type 
on the door. I never knew till then that stoves 
were named, but I shall never forget that 
special brand — Air-tight! 

We were to give a matinee and evening per- 
formance on that Christmas Day, and at the 
matinee there was a very small audience, 
which helped make us less philosophical, as 
we returned to the Drawing Room after the 
matinee, and huddled about the " air-tight." 
But after all, what did it matter ? We would 
eat the boarding-house turkey and hurry back 
to the theater. We were a merry lot, and I 
remember Mr. Warren and Mrs. Vincent were 

4 8 



MRS. J. R. VINCENT 

in jolly good spirits, and while the dinner was 
awful, the gayety was all the more enjoyable. 
We had a private table, and when the turkey 
appeared, very pallid, Mr. Warren carved it, 
exclaiming, "Ah ! a rare bird!" At dessert, lo 
and behold, was served one of Mrs. Vincent's plum 
puddings she had brought on for the occasion. 
It was a cheery sight, — like a crouching porcu- 
pine covered with blanched almonds all ablaze. 
There was a general clapping of hands, and the 
saying "actors never eat" was disproved. 

For years we made a short tour each season 
through New England, going as far as Mon- 
treal. It was a regular holiday for us, usually 
coming in the spring or apple-blossom time, and 
we always played to packed houses. While we 
were absent, some company or star occupied 
the Museum stage, the members of our com- 
pany who were not traveling, supporting them. 
George W. Blatchford had charge of our travel- 
ing tours, and everything possible was done for 
our comfort. I can see our merry party headed 

49 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

for the train. There were William Warren, 
Charles Barron, Mrs. Vincent, accompanied 
by her companion, Mrs. Hart (Hartie), with 
whom she lived during her last days, Miss 
Clarke and her mother, George Wilson, 
"Barney" Nolan, my husband (christened 
Barney by his associates because of playing 
the title part in "Barney, the Baron" so suc- 
cessfully for a long run), J. H. Ring, James 
Burrows, and James R. Pitman. 

We traveled in the best possible way. Our 
rooms at the hotel were secured in advance. 
Carriages were provided for the ladies to and 
from the theater at night, and a special supper 
always awaited us after the play. A bottle of 
Bass's ale was always provided for Mr. Warren 
and Mrs. Vincent, in deference to their Eng- 
lish tastes. Even the little pet dogs, Mrs. 
Vincent's Dot, Miss Clarke's Pansy and Jip, 
were looked after, and their menu, consisting 
of liver, milk, and biscuits, was discussed with 
other hotel arrangements. 

50 






MRS. J. R. VINCENT 

We were relieved from expense and responsibil- 
ity entirely, when traveling on the road, the man- 
agement providing everything. Alas ! all good 
things end ; so ended this ! Just because of lack 
of appreciation, we lost our perquisites, and it 
came about in this way. A "jeune premier", 
very popular with the audience and the Com- 
pany as well, but very much of a spoiled child, 
thought he ought to be allowed a bottle of 
Bass's ale for supper every night, so he wrote 
home to the management. Manager R. M. 
Field replied at once, saying that the arrange- 
ment was a courtesy extended by the manage- 
ment, and very shortly after that, we all, except- 
ing Mr. Warren and Mrs. Vincent, were put on 
an allowance of a dollar and a half per diem for 
general expenses. 

Mrs. Vincent was always full of fun on these 
trips, and the mirth-maker of the party. She 
loved to play practical jokes. I remember she 
was dreadfully scared of mice, and we always 
knew when she reached the theater, for she 

51 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

would stamp her little feet and "sssh", "sssh" 
through the dark corridor to her dressing-room. 
Speaking of mice reminds me that before the 
renovation of the theater, we had many rats. 
They never feared our intrusion, and I believe 
they knew each member of the company ; 
Mrs. Vincent's stamping and "ssshing" didn't 
dismay them in the least. Miss Clarke de- 
clared that one old fellow always came down 
the stairs to witness every first-night perform- 
ance. Her dressing-room in those days was 
up one flight from the stage, and rickety old 
stairs they were ! Miss Clarke said she could 
hear him majestically thudding over those 
stairs and back again. I saw him once ; he 
was very grizzled and gray. He was most 
considerate and would always step aside, — 
slowly, not hurriedly. Although I didn't 
exactly fear him, yet somehow I didn't enjoy 
meeting him, and was glad when he and his 
kind passed out with the ramshackle stairs 
and the old dressing-rooms. 

52 



MRS. J. R. VINCENT 

Every theater possesses a stage cat, and the 
Museum cat, not unlike her kind, made her 
debut and many unexpected reappearances, 
usually selecting the time during an emotional 
scene. She would take the center of the stage, 
blink her approval of the audience, and then 
proceed to wash her face ; or at other times, 
she would stalk on cautiously, and then make 
a sudden dash for an exit that was not an exit. 
I hardly know which method the audience 
enjoyed most; but I am quite sure the actor 
who happened to be on the stage at the time 
suffered much discomfort. But regardless of 
this, the cat would reach a place of safety and 
there remain, despite the efforts of the stage 
hands, who made appealing calls to lure her 
from the spot. Even the rats could not dis- 
turb Puss's equilibrium. She was well fed, a 
favorite with the stage hands as well as the 
actors, and Mrs. Vincent's special charge. 

One time we were playing in New Bedford 
when the elder Sothern came from Boston to 

53 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

spend the day with Mrs. Vincent. They were 
real, oldtime friends, and were always playing 
practical jokes on each other. That night, 
when Mrs. Vincent entered her dressing-room, 
after the usual scampering and "ssshing", we 
heard an awful shriek. We rushed to her 
assistance and found the poor, dear lady panic- 
stricken. Sothern had put a rubber mouse 
in her dressing-room — the most real looking 
mouse I ever saw — attached by a rubber 
string to the gas-burner, and when she turned 
the gas on, the mouse jumped about in a 
vividly natural way. Poor soul ! When she 
realized it was a joke, she laughed till she 
almost cried, and every time she would think 
of it during the evening, she would say: "Oh! 
that awful Neddy. Just wait till I fix him." 
She told us many funny stories about 
Sothern. A favorite one was about his going 
to an undertaker and ordering in a lavish 
manner everything necessary for a funeral. 
No expense must be spared ; the preparations 

S4 



MRS. J. R. VINCENT 

must be worthy of a deceased royal prince. 
The undertaker, concealing his delight, at once 
proceeded to carry out orders. Mr. Sothern 
would drop in to see how arrangements were 
progressing, and on his final visit said, "When 
can I have the body ?" 

"The body? What do you mean?" cried 
the undertaker. 

"Why, of course you provide the body?" 

The undertaker was unable to speak. He 
stood amazed, with open mouth, when Sothern 
solemnly produced a card, exclaiming, "Why, 
do you not say here, 'All things necessary for 
funerals promptly supplied'? Is not a body 
the very first necessity?" 

I remember well a joke that he played on 
Sadie Martinot and myself. We had planned 
to have our lunch in the theater after the 
matinee. Our luncheon consisted of hard- 
boiled eggs, cream-of-tartar biscuits, doughnuts, 
pickled limes, and homemade molasses candy. 
Mr. Sothern was waiting to take Mrs. Vincent 

55 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

home after the matinee. When he learned of our 
menu, he was very much amused, and suggested 
sending us something more substantial, from 
the chop-house opposite the Museum, famous 
for its chop-steaks and salads (Atwood's). 

We were quite satisfied with our luncheon at 
first, but Miss Martinot decided that a lobster 
salad and ice cream would be delicious additions. 
Mr. Sothern jokingly suggested a glass of 
milk and some nice sardines. However, in 
due time, the waiter appeared with a most 
attractive tray, bearing a luscious lobster salad 
and ice cream. When Miss Martinot served 
the salad, she discovered that it was composed 
of sawdust, artistically decorated with lettuce, 
olives, and mayonnaise, and the ice cream was 
a block of wood, with a thin layer of ice cream 
on top. We hardly minded the disappoint- 
ment, because it was such a joke, but after 
we had scolded and laughed in the same breath, 
a knock was heard at the do.or, and the waiter 
appeared with a real salad and real ice cream. 

56 



MRS. J. R. VINCENT 

We forgave and loved dear Sothern, even as 
Mrs. Vincent forgave him for the mouse trick. 
, Just before Christmas, each year, Mr. 
Sothern sent a check of one hundred dollars to 
Mrs. Vincent for her poor people, and she called 
it "The Sothern Fund." 

Mrs. Vincent devoted much of her time to 
costuming. For years, she costumed the Har- 
vard plays for the "Pudding" and "Dickey" 
theatricals. The boys were very much en- 
deared to the dear old lady, and fine friendships 
were then formed which existed till the end of 
her life. She delighted in collecting rare bits 
of lace and brocades, and had a wonderful 
collection of paste jewels and buckles. I shall 
never forget my husband's joy, when he suc- 
ceeded in obtaining a pair of those much- 
coveted buckles. He at once sought out his 
old friend Burrows, who had so often hoped to 
inveigle her into parting with a pair, and said to 
him: "Now, Jim, now is the accepted time!" 
Burrows then succeeded in getting a pair. 

57 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Mrs. Vincent's home was filled with dumb 
animals. She had a wonderful family of black 
cats, each named after a prominent member 
of the Company. William Warren was a 
majestic old fellow and as dignified as his 
namesake, and I remember Smithy was an 
unusually attractive cat and very fastidious. 
There was also a naughty little parrot who 
embarrassed her mistress at most inopportune 
times by saying: "Mother, Mother, shut 
up, Mother! Go t'ell ! Tired Mother! Nice 
Mother!" Then there was Dot, a black-and- 
tan dog who demanded all the care of a child 
and got it. She was Mrs. Vincent's favorite 
and constant companion, and never was the 
lady seen without Dot. If she put the dog 
down for a moment, it would disappear, in- 
stantly spirited away by the boys of the 
neighborhood ; but when a reward was offered, 
it was always returned safely to its mistress. 
Dot finally died, and the naughty boys were very 
sorry ; but it was a real grief to his mistress. 

58 




Mrs. J. R. Vincent 



MRS. J. R. VINCENT 

Her love and kindness were not confined to 
dumb animals, but extended to many unfortu- 
nate human beings who have to thank her for 
care and help. 

On New Year's Day, a short time ago, a 
little parcel was sent to E. A. Sothern, which 
contained the fan used by her for so many 
years. Her oldtime friend, Judge Richardson, 
who had charge of many of Mrs. Vincent's be- 
longings, presented it to Mr. Sothern as a 
fitting souvenir of his dear friend. 

Who can ever forget her delightful Mrs. 
Candour in "The School for Scandal", when she 
used that fan as she spoke the lines : 

"Tale-bearers are just as bad as the tale- 
makers, and they do say, — ahem — " ? 

Never have I heard the lines spoken with the 
same unction. And her Mrs. Malaprop, with 
the wonderful furbelows and remarkable faux- 
pas! She was so irresistibly funny that one 
couldn't realize that her people were not real. 

Mrs. Vincent's fiftieth anniversary as an 

59 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

actress was celebrated at the Boston Museum, 
April 25, 1885. The program for the after- 
noon was "She Stoops to Conquer", — Mrs. 
Vincent was Mrs. Hardcastle, — and in the 
evening, "The Rivals", with Mrs. Vincent as 
Mrs. Malaprop. The house was crowded after- 
noon and evening, with friends both outside 
and in the theatrical profession, who joined to 
do her honor. At the close of the performance, 
she received an ovation, and responded in a 
few words, expressing her deep pleasure and 
gratitude. 

She played hundreds of parts and every line 
of character. I am powerless to describe her 
humor and charm as she impressed me. How 
delightful she was in Irish plays ! Conn's 
mother in the "Shaughraun", and Shiela Mann 
in the "Colleen Bawn", were a delight to the 
children as well as to the grown-ups. It has 
been said that Mrs. Vincent in her youth ex- 
celled equally in emotional as well as in comedy 
parts. I know she delighted in emotional roles, 

60 



MRS. J. R. VINCENT 

such as the Mother in " Article 47", and the 
Widow Melnotte in the "Lady of Lyons." 
She told me these were her "pet parts." At 
one time, when she played the Widow Melnotte 
with Edwin Forrest, Mr. Forrest sent for her 
to take a curtain call with Pauline and Claude, 
after the fourth act. When she modestly de- 
murred, he assured her that her work was de- 
servedly appreciated, and that she must take 
the call. 

Her last part was in "The Dominie's 
Daughter." She was feeling ill at the theater 
on Wednesday, but on Thursday was much 
better. Then, on Sunday morning, September 
7, 1887, she died. It was a great shock to us. 
I understudied so many of her parts in the old 
days that I felt it with especial keenness. She 
was always conscientious, and even when she 
was so ill that it was almost impossible for her 
to get dressed for her parts, she would go on 
and play even better than usual, if possible, 
and perhaps collapse at the end of the play. I 

61 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

was very ambitious in those days, but I didn't 
dare suggest my willingness to play in her 
stead. I only hoped for the chance. I have 
been told that I imitated Mrs. Vincent, and 
even in later days, when friends have said I 
reminded them of her, I am flattered. Why 
shouldn't it be so ? She was my model, and 
inspired me in my girlhood. 

I haven't spoken very much of her acting, 
for it is not only as an actress Boston idolized 
Mrs. Vincent, but as a lovable, charitable, 
Christian woman. She left as a monument the 
Vincent Hospital for Women, which, as a trib- 
ute to its founder, is being supported by her 
many friends and admirers. 



62 



CHAPTER V 

Miss Annie M. Clarke 

ANNIE M. CLARKE made her entree on 
life's stage on Christmas Day, in the 
year 1846, at South Boston. Her father died 
when she was less than two years old, and to 
help her mother eke out an existence, little 
Annie was carried on the stage in baby parts. 
When she was six years old, she appeared as 
one of the tiny pickaninnies in "Uncle Tom's 
Cabin." 

In the same play were William Warren and 
Mrs. Vincent. From that time on, the little 
child-actress became their special charge, and 
the warmth of that friendship never waned. 
Another child's part that brought her in close 
touch with these two was in "The Silver 
Spoon", produced in the year 1852. Miss 

63 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Clarke was announced on the bills as " Little 
Polly." The play afforded Mr. Warren one of 
his most famous characters, Jefferson Scattering 
Batkins, and Mrs. Vincent was inimitable as 
Hannah Partridge. "The Silver Spoon" was 
presented annually for thirty years, but the 
child's part was eliminated after a time, so was 
played only by " Little Polly." 

Miss Clarke went to the Boston Theater in 
1857, appearing as one of the fairies in "Mid- 
summer Night's Dream." Later she played 
two seasons at the Howard Athenaeum under 
the management of E. L. Davenport. Finally, 
in the season of 1 861-1862, she drifted back to 
the Boston Museum, having become a grown- 
up, — that is, having grown from girlhood into 
comparatively long dresses. Her reappearance 
was as Euphemia Cholmondeley in the play 
"Men of the Day." She was engaged as 
"walking lady", and jokingly said it was lucky 
she was playing "walking" parts, for she found 
herself walking out of her frocks at an appalling 

64 



MISS ANNIE M. CLARKE 

rate. Fortunately, the dress worn by the "walk- 
ing lady" of that day was usually a simple muslin 
made up with tucks and deep hems that could 
be let down as emergencies demanded. 

She labored on steadily, making the most of 
her opportunities, always ready for any emer- 
gency, and because of her faithfulness, soon 
becoming invaluable to the management. She 
made her way so surely, indeed, that when Miss 
Josie Orton left the Company, Miss Clarke was 
instantly put in her place. There was no 
question of her ability to play seconds and 
juveniles to Miss Kate Reignolds, who was 
leading woman at the Boston Museum at that 
time. Shortly after that, Miss Kate Denin 
became the leading woman, and at her some- 
what abrupt departure, Miss Clarke was pro- 
moted to the position, which she retained for 
more than twenty years. She told me that in 
her salad days she aspired to be a soubrette, but 
she shot up so rapidly that she decidedly out- 
grew that line of characters ; in fact, however, 

65 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

she was not limited to any one class of work. 
She played all kinds of parts well. In her 
early youth she was splendid in boys' parts, — 
Oliver Twist, and Pip in "Great Expectations" 
being especially praiseworthy. 

She acted in all the Shakespearean plays 
that are commonly produced, excepting 
"Cymbeline" and "Twelfth Night." She was 
to have played Viola in "Twelfth Night" for 
her benefit, and had carefully studied the part, 
but on the week before, Adelaide Neilson came 
to Boston and appeared in the same play, so 
Miss Clarke put the book away in her desk and 
never played Viola. Her one great ambition 
was to play Hamlet. She had played Romeo 
to the Juliet of Louisa Meyers, Kate Reignolds, 
and Carlotta LeClerq, and received flattering 
praise from both public and press. She had 
made a study of Hamlet, but somehow the 
great opportunity never presented itself. It 
seemed a pity ; I think she would have been an 
ideal Hamlet. 

66 




'^Wy^V 



Annie M. Clarke as ' ' Peg Woffington ' ' and George W. 
Wilson as ' ' Triplet ' ' 



MISS ANNIE M. CLARKE 

The plays that she loved best were those she 
had grown up in. Peg Woffington in "Masks 
and Faces" was a favorite part. In that play 
she appeared as Roxanna (Triplet's child), Kitty 
Clive, Mabel Vane, and we know how delightful 
was her Peg. She played Maria in "The School 
for Scandal" long before she played Lady 
Teazle, and in "Oliver Twist" she was in turn 
Oliver, Rose Maylie, and Nancy Sykes. 

Robertson's "Caste" was entwined with fond 
memories of what she called the great days of 
the Museum and her golden years. Those were 
the years, she said, when Boston had two 
famous stock companies, the Boston Museum 
and Selwyn's. There was great rivalry between 
the two houses, and when "Caste" was first 
announced for a reading, the manager said to 
the Company (that was on Thursday morning), 
"Can we play this play on Monday night?" 
The entire Company, as if one voice, said 
"We will", so "Caste" was produced at the 
Museum the following Monday night, and scored 

6 7 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

one of the most phenomenal successes of the 
house. 

She said there was another rush when "Frou 
Frou" was brought out. It was learned that 
Selwyn's Company had the manuscript, in- 
tending to have the honor of the first produc- 
tion in Boston. Mr. Fred Williams, who was 
the stage manager, secured a copy of the French 
play, and, setting to work at once, rushed out a 
translation. The parts were given out piece- 
meal. One act of the play was being rehearsed 
while the last one was being written, and in a 
week it was produced, again getting ahead of 
Selwyn's Company. 

Those were no doubt exciting days, for a 
little competition is a great spur to endeavor, 
and when the players were imbued with the 
feeling that they were playing for the record 
of the Boston Museum as against its rival, such 
an incentive merged individual ambition into 
a greater and better thing. It was the success 
of the production that they were working for, 

68 



MISS ANNIE M. CLARKE 

— not individual hits. The work was hard, 
but the certainty of mutual help made it seem 
light, and, too, the general spirit of the 
members must have been very like that of 
college boys who are trying to win the race for 
their Alma Mater. Such feeling is a great 
fosterer of esprit de corps, and Miss Clarke, 
ever loyal to the management, never lost that 
spirit. 

What delightful memories cluster about the 
parts in which Miss Clarke excelled ! Countess 
Zicka in "Diplomacy" — how full of splendid 
defiance! Olivia in "The Vicar of Wakefield", 
Lady Gay Spanker in "London Assurance", — 
has that part ever been so well played by any 
other actress ? 

Miss Clarke's work in the old comedies long 
will be remembered, and nobody who saw her 
as Lady Teazle will ever forget the elegance and 
dignity and the grand manner of her coming on 
the stage. Suzanne in "A Scrap of Paper" 
was also a favorite part of Miss Clarke's. She 

6 9 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

told me how much she regretted, when the play 
was first brought out in Boston, that she was 
not able to play Suzanne. Miss Clarke and 
Mr. Barron were to play the leading characters, 
but Mr. Barron unfortunately fell ill with 
pneumonia, and at the very time the news of 
his illness reached the theater, Miss Clarke 
narrowly escaped death. She was standing on 
the stage with Mr. Hardenberg and Mr. Pit- 
man, running over the lines of " Heir-at-Law ", 
when suddenly a heavy curtain-roller fell from 
its position, and in its plunge to the stage 
struck all three actors. No one was dangerously 
injured, but the effect upon Miss Clarke would 
have been serious, so the doctor said, had not 
Mr. Warren, in assisting her to her dressing 
room, by chance pressed back the bone in her 
neck which had been dislocated. It was this 
accident which prevented Miss Clarke from 
appearing at the initial performance. 

Miss Clarke greatly missed Mr. Warren and 
Mrs. Vincent, with whom she was associated 

70 



MISS ANNIE M. CLARKE 

all her life. Her dressing room overlooked 
Court Square, and in a cozy nook in the corner 
was Mrs. Vincent's old rocking-chair, which 
stood for so many years in her dressing room, 
and after her death was placed in her god- 
child's room. The arm-chair bore the same 
linen cover and the same cushions in its old- 
fashioned but comfortable frame as when the 
dear old lady was wont to take little naps 
between the acts. In speaking once of Mr. 
Warren, Miss Clarke said the words of the old 
plays spoke to her not in the new voices but in 
the old. She said : 

"I was going to my dressing room. I found 
myself pausing by the door of the room that 
had been Mr. Warren's as I used to pause for 
that never-failing 'Good evening, Anna', 
which always so heartened me for my work, 
and then in a moment there came over me 
such a rush of homesickness and loneliness, 
and the world was a place of chills and shadows, 
and nothing was real but what has ceased to be. 

71 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

" No one can know, who was not acquainted 
with the full loveliness and nobility of Mr. 
Warren's character, his sensitive tenderness of 
heart, his beautiful courtesy. I used to look 
forward to matinee days as to high holidays, 
for then for years I shared the lunch of Mr. 
Warren and Mrs. Vincent." 

Again Miss Clarke has said : " I may say I 
was fore-ordained to the footlights from my 
christening, by the godmother who did prom- 
ise for me. Dear Mrs. Vincent was my god- 
mother. I was christened Anna, but Mr. 
Barrow, the manager, thought Annie looked 
better on the bill, so he rechristened me. Of 
course I had nothing to do but submit. He 
assured me that it sounded much better, espe- 
cially as it was the fashion at that time. Yet 
I never liked the name so much as Anna. Mr. 
Warren till the end of his life called me Anna." 

Dear Annie Clarke was, without exception, 
the most womanly woman I have ever met, — 
a wholesome, noble character. She was a 

72 



MISS ANNIE M. CLARKE 

great lover of nature, and I remember that she 
used to scatter bits of worsted about the lawn 
of her pretty Needham home to assist the birds 
in nest building. She was above all a devoted 
daughter. Her charities were many, but she 
gave as unostentatiously as she lived. 

Realizing in her prime that the younger 
generation was knocking at the door, she re- 
tired from the Museum stage and the position 
of leading woman that she had occupied for 
twenty years, and took a farewell benefit on 
February 27, 1886. Not until 1892 did the 
Boston public realize her permanent retire- 
ment. Then some of the most prominent 
citizens took the matter in hand, and arranged 
a testimonial, to give Bostonians a chance to 
show their appreciation of Annie Clarke as an 
actress and a woman. The testimonial was 
arranged for May 26, 1892, and was to be 
given independent of the management of the 
Museum. A committee of prominent citizens 
rented the theater for that purpose. 

73 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

The following correspondence explains itself : 

Miss Annie Clarke : 

Dear Madam : — I have been intrusted with 
the following request from some of your hosts 
of friends, and shall be glad to consult with you 
at any time you may appoint. Pray let me 
add that on all sides I hear deep regrets at the 
prospect of losing you from the Museum, where 
we have derived so much enjoyment at your 
hands, and where we had hoped you might 
continue a link in the chain which binds us 
older patrons to the past. The enclosed peti- 
tion should have been made as long as Bunker 
Hill monument, but the present names will, 
we hope, appeal to you as earnestly as if indefi- 
nitely prolonged. 

Very Truly Yours, 
Henry S. Russell. 

Miss Annie Clarke : 

Madam — In view of your proposed retire- 
ment from the Boston stage, your friends will 
be glad of an opportunity to express to you 
their appreciation of admirable work which 
for so many years has identified you with the 
Museum's success, and hope that you will 
appoint an early day on which they may ar- 
range the necessary details, in deference to your 
convenience. 

Yours truly, 

Henry Lee. 

Frederick Ames. 

74 



MISS ANNIE M. CLARKE 

Henry S. Russell. 
Charles Fairchild. 
E. Rollins Morse. 
Robert H. Stevenson. 
Oliver W. Peabody. 
Arthur Hunnewell. 
Robert G. Shaw. 
Henry G. Parker. 
Francis H. Appleton. 
Francis Parkman. 
Thos. L. Livermore. 
H. L. Higginson. 
John H. Holmes. 
Charles H. Taylor. 
Curtis Guild. 

Col. Henry S. Russell : 

Dear Sir, — In response to your flattering 
note of April 22nd. enclosing me the petition 
requesting me to accept a benefit as a mark of 
the appreciation in which my Boston friends 
are so kind to hold me, let me express to you 
and the gentlemen whose names are affixed to 
the petition, my heart-felt gratitude, assuring 
them that of all the pleasant recollections of 
my service at the Museum none will remain 
more deeply impressed on my memory than 
the gracious compliment which will close my 
career there. 

Sincerely, 
Annie M. Clarke. 



75 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

The plays selected were " Masks and Faces", 
"A Scrap of Paper", and "Sweethearts." Jack 
Mason, who had been very popular with 
Museum audiences, came over from New York 
to play the part of Spreadbrow. Many artists 
volunteered their services, and among those 
who appeared were Henry Dixey, Alexander 
Salvini, William Seymour, Mary Shaw, Marie 
Jansen, and Marion Manola. I deeply re- 
gretted not being able to take part, but Mr. 
Field had loaned my services to Mr. Lewis 
Morrison to play Martha in "Faust", and May 
Robson played my part of Mrs. Triplet in 
"Masks and Faces." 

The testimonial was a great success, artis- 
tically, financially, and socially. Miss Clarke 
was very much touched by the demonstration 
given her by that great assemblage. There 
are tears and tears. Those shed at the Museum 
that afternoon were as warm as June raindrops, 
and came welling up from hearts full of tender 
regard for Boston's one and only Annie Clarke. 

7 6 



MISS ANNIE M. CLARKE 

The familiar lines of the tag of "Masks and 
Faces" seemed to be peculiarly adapted to the 
occasion, and Miss Clarke read them as if they 
came from the bottom of her heart, as they 
doubtless did. 

As she finished, Miss Mary Shaw stepped 
forward on the stage, followed by the entire 
company, and spoke a short epilogue written 
for the occasion, at the conclusion presenting 
Miss Clarke with a laurel wreath. The poem 
was by Miss Louise Imogene Guiney, and seemed 
so fitting for the occasion that its reproduction 
here is given for memory's sake. 

"Nay, all's not over. As we see you clad 
In womanhood your great forerunner had, 
(Who, if her gracious portraits speak her true, 
Looked, moved, indeed, dear Peg of ours, like 

you.) 
O, stay awhile. The bell that sounds to-night 
Intones a little knell for old delight, 
And from this painted heaven many a thing 
Sweetly with you must vanish, wing to wing. 
Too bright a spot it is to breathe 'good-bye', 
Where long beneath a patch of playhouse sky, 
Our modern Boston (who'll believe it ?) stood 
All happy, all intelligent, all good : 

77 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Where amid welcomes, fellowship, applause, 
And mutual wit, and worth that wins her cause, 
And kind dead faces, tender memories, 
Rang your own voice that passes not with these. 

"Honor is due you. How your orbit lay 
In quiet paths of home and yesterday, 
Bringing the dull uncivil time's extreme, 
The sly fine dames of our grandsires' dream ; 
How you lent truth to sorrow, fire to scorn, 
To hatefulness a something nobly born ; 
How no least task to you could ever fall 
But full perfection crowned it : how in all 
Naught cheap or common touched you, and 

your part 
Seemed often but to hide too high a heart, 
Let men hereafter tell. For what we owe, 
Our thanks do hang the head. Where'er you 

go 
The town shall follow, Peg ; and since in truth 
You gave us here your genius and your youth, 
Take from this trysting place of thirty years 
Health, luck, godspeed and love too proud for 

tears." 



Then followed a more touching incident when 
Mr. Burrows stepped forward and presented 
Miss Clarke with a gold locket set with dia- 
monds, from the members of the Company. 
His speech was impromptu, spoken with sin- 

78 






MISS ANNIE M. CLARKE 

cerity and true feeling. Mr. Burrows was 
selected because of his long association with 
the Museum. He played that evening the part 
of Snarl, the same part he played with Miss 
Clarke when she made her debut in 1867, in 
the role of Peg. 

Miss Clarke later joined the Julia Marlowe 
Company, where she remained until her death, 
May 22, 1902, which occurred in Chicago, after 
a short illness. 

It is, alas, the fate of the actor to be admired 
in life and soon forgotten, but dear Annie 
Clarke has sown seeds in the hearts of her 
friends that will bloom till the end of time. 



79 



CHAPTER VI 

Charles Barron 

CHARLES BARRON, who was Charles 
Brown in private life, the name Barron 
having been assumed for professional purposes, 
was born in Boston, January 22, 1840. He 
saw all of the plays and players of that period, 
and was a true Boston boy in all that the words 
imply. Educated in Boston, he passed his boy- 
hood and early manhood here, and finally de- 
cided to take to the stage. Of course his family 
objected, as any staid family rejoicing in -the 
eminently respectable name of Brown would 
have been expected to do. But Young America 
would have his fling, and Mr. Barron made his 
first appearance on any stage at Portland, 
Maine, August 20, i860. An extract from the 
program reads thus : 

80 






CHARLES BARRON 



"First Appearance of Mr. C. Barron, who will 

appear as the Stage-Struck Barber with 

imitations of celebrated actors." 

The performance opened with Miss Susan 
Denin in the tragedy of "Ion, the Foundling", 
and concluded with "The Widow's Victim", 
cast as follows : 



Jeremiah Clip (with 

tions) . . . 
Mr. Twitter . . 
Pelham Podge 
Mrs. Rattleton 
Jane Chatterly 
Mrs. Twitter . . 



mita- 



Mr. C. Barron 
Mr. F. A. Chaplin 
Mr. W. Cappell 
Mrs. F. S. Kent 
Jessie Macfarland 
Min LeClaire 



Mr. Barron had attained much prominence 
in Buffalo before joining the Museum Com- 
pany. In 1867 he was tendered a grand com- 
plimentary benefit by the mayor and citizens 
of that city and was billed as the "Popular 
Young American Tragedian." 

On the twenty-eighth of January, 1869, "a 
well graced actor" played Mercutio in "Romeo 
and Juliet" at the Boston Museum. Those 
who noted a new face on that stage glanced at 

81 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

their play-bills and saw the name of Charles 
Barron. They witnessed a very fine perform- 
ance of the part that night, and no doubt 
some of them secretly wished that this 
splendidly equipped actor might be added to 
the list of those they were wont to see in that 
dear old house. The withdrawal of Mr. L. R. 
Shewell soon made this wish a fact, and Charles 
Barron became a regular member of the Com- 
pany, bringing his splendid personality and 
indescribable talent to this new field. What 
a field it was ! And what an admirable ex- 
ponent of the art of acting this virile, handsome 
man became, when he took his place in the 
midst of his peers on that famous stage ! 
Comedy and characters were already in good 
hands, but here came a new "Knight of The 
Sock and Buskin", who could add to the al- 
ready well equipped Company the highest walk 
of the drama — Tragedy. 

If I were to attempt to detail his many 
triumphs, it would include practically all of 

82 



CHARLES BARRON 

the plays in which he appeared. He was light 
and fanciful in the comedies from the French 
and superb in the tragedies of Shakespeare. 
His advent made it possible to inaugurate the 
custom of playing Saturday nights, which, up 
to that time, had not been practised at the 
Museum. A series of classic plays was tried 
on Saturday evenings, with so much success 
that it soon became the regular policy of the 
house. 

Charles Barron was the most versatile actor 
of his time, — I may say the very best actor 
who attempted such a large number of dis- 
similar parts. When I think of him as Charles 
Surface, Richelieu, Hugh de Bras, Jean Renaud, 
Dei Franchi, Ruy Bias, Sir Edward Mortimer, 
Sir Giles Overreach, Rover, Young Marlowe, 
Salem Scudder, Charles Cashmore, Richard 
III, Shylock, Macbeth, Bill Sykes, Shaun, the 
Post, Danny Mann, and scores of other roles, 
I am simply lost in wonder that this man 
could have played them all, from night to 

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OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

night, and played them so well. What a 
capacity he had to memorize all those lines ! 
He was never known to need the aid of the 
prompter, and was always ready to give the 
word to a companion in the scene with him. 
One can hardly estimate the value of such a 
man in giving strength and smoothness to a 
scene that without him might perhaps go 
haltingly. 

I recall his performance of Dick Arkwright 
in Tom Taylor's play "Arkwright's Wife." 
Mr. Barron was an excellent Dick Arkwright, 
bright and lively in the first act, honest, manly, 
and true in the second, and sadly pathetic in 
the last. An amusing contretemps occurred 
in the last act, which was hugely relished by the 
audience. A festival is given in honor of the 
recently knighted Sir Richard Arkwright on 
his return from London, and as he enters he 
is supposed to be greeted with shouts and 
cheers from the enthusiastic populace. On this 
occasion the populace forgot to shout, and 

8 4 



CHARLES BARRON 

after waiting some time, Mr. Barron's voice 
was heard behind the scenes in a loud whisper, 
saying, "Shout! Shout! Why don't you 
shout?" Whereupon one lone man, with a 
shrill, falsetto voice, piped out " Welcome, Sir 
Knight", and Mr. Barron dashed on, beaming 
and bowing acknowledgment right and left, 
saying, "Ah ! kind friends, you overwhelm 
me." The audience appreciated the situation, 
and he was given a hearty welcome. 

Perhaps the most striking portrayal Mr. 
Barron essayed during his long career at the 
Museum was that of Jean Renaud in "A 
Celebrated Case." Never have I seen more 
powerful acting. In the play he was mis- 
takenly accused and convicted of the murder 
of his wife by the testimony of his own little 
daughter, and sentenced for life as a galley 
slave. If this situation were to happen in real 
life, one can easily imagine what a strain it 
would be upon the heartstrings of an innocent 
man. The child was then six years old, and 

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OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

was adopted later by the Duke and Duchess 
D'Aubterre (played by Mr. Burrows and my- 
self). After twelve years, the young girl, while 
on a visit of mercy among the prisoners, was 
attracted by the sadness and hopelessness of 
one of the men, and from his story learned that 
he was her own father. I shall never forget 
the intense power of his acting. I was then 
witnessing something absolutely real. I forgot 
my own mission there, and sobbed aloud on 
the stage. 

Mr. Barron's portrayal of the unfortunate 
man was vigorous throughout, and was char- 
acterized by a temperance of expression that 
was in every way commendable. His make- 
up as a French convict was a triumph, and 
most effectively concealed his personality. One 
of the finest bits of acting ever seen on this 
stage was his parting with the child. He 
evidently felt the situation in every fiber of 
his body, and the tears which coursed down his 
cheeks showed that for the time being, the 

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CHARLES BARRON 

scene was to him a reality. He never did any- 
thing better during his entire career, and it is 
to be doubted if any actor on the American 
stage at that or any other time could have so 
completely identified himself with the role. 

A fine example of Mr. Barron in his lighter 
efforts was offered by the part of Charles Cash- 
more in "My Uncle's Will." He was the 
originator of this role in the United States, 
and played it so many times at the Museum 
that it became a classic in its way. Miss Annie 
Clarke was equally brilliant as Florence, so that 
their combined efforts created an impression 
that lasted long after they had ceased to be 
members of the Museum Company. 

I recall one occasion at the Boston Theater 
when that lofty temple was crowded as it had 
never been before since Patti's first farewell. 
All Boston had come that day to attend the 
"Press Club Benefit." It has often been said 
that the labors of an active newspaper man are 
not appreciated by the general public as much 

87 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

as they deserve to be. No doubt there are 
many members of the Boston Press who be- 
lieve this, and for them it must have been a 
most agreeable surprise to see the host of 
friends who had braved the storm to help along 
the success of their first attempt at giving a 
public entertainment. 

There were attractions from all of the theaters, 
but probably the most interesting feature of the 
program was "My Uncle's Will", given by the 
trio who had made this comedietta so famous : 
Mr. Charles Barron, Mr. James Burrows, and 
Miss Annie Clarke. It was unlikely that these 
three would ever again act together, and this fact, 
of course, added greatly to the interest of the pro- 
duction. It was a unanimous verdict that never 
had the comedy been acted so well. Miss Clarke 
had never looked more charming, and one could 
not help feeling a personal regret that she had 
left our stage. The two gentlemen fairly outdid 
themselves. Such a reception as they received 
must have been most agreeable. The applause 

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CHARLES BARRON 

was so unrestrained that it was several minutes 
after the appearance of Mr. Barron and Miss 
Clarke before they were able to speak. 

Mr. Barron was usually cast for long and 
exacting leading roles, so that when he had an 
opportunity for a little frolic in trifles like 
Hugh deBras, he let himself loose like a mettle- 
some colt. He fairly reveled in this light 
comedy part, and was surely unrivaled in it. 

When he left the Museum to travel with Mr. 
John McCullough, it was to play almost the 
same line of exacting parts he had been pre- 
senting with us, alternating with Mr. McCul- 
lough in " Othello" and "Iago", and giving 
his same splendid impersonation of Edgar in 
"King Lear" that we had all seen many times 
with Mr. Edwin Booth at the Museum. 

He created a veritable sensation at Wallack's 
Theater in New York when "Clarissa Harlowe" 
was produced, and really carried off the honors, 
even with such actors as Charles and Rose 
Coghlan in the cast. We were not surprised 

8 9 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

at this, for we had seen him emerge trium- 
phantly from so many trying situations that 
we had come to feel that "In his vocabulary 
there was no such word as fail." 

Mr. Barron has been retired for years, and 
lives a comfortably secluded life with his family 
in Roxbury, Massachusetts. He has two 
granddaughters who have followed the foot- 
steps of their illustrious grandfather. Their 
stage names are Beverly West and Madeleine 
Moore. 



90 



CHAPTER VII 
Salad Days 

I AM sure that in my salad days I was the 
cause of much mental disturbance to the 
management. I remember one incident that 
occurred at the beginning of my career. It 
happened on a holiday, and there was a crowded 
house. Some of my schoolmates, when they 
learned I had become an actress (!), formed a 
theater-party and occupied the front row, 
planning to surprise me. I can only remember 
that it was a spectacular play, and I was 
selected to represent a cupbearer. At the 
rise of the curtain, I was discovered standing 
on a pedestal, gorgeously displayed in tinsel, 
a golden goblet held in one hand, in the other, 
a golden pitcher gracefully poised. I was 
overjoyed at seeing my friends, and bowed 

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OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

and smiled and waved my pitcher at them. 
During the various transformation scenes, as 
the curtain rose and fell, I was still seen waving 
the pitcher, bowing and smiling. 

The final curtain descended, and poor Mr. 
Williams, rushing wildly on the stage, shouted, 
" Don't you ever DARE to do that again!" 
No danger, I can tell you ; I never did ! The 
only thing that surprises me now is that I was 
not forced to a farewell appearance. 

My first speaking part was in the "Road to 
Ruin," in which I was cast for the part of a 
maid with a single line, "Precisely at nine, 
Ma'am." I studied the speech, putting the 
emphasis first on one word and then on the 
other, had dress rehearsals all by myself, and 
at last concluded I was letter perfect and 
artistically correct. The night of the perform- 
ance arrived. I was ready and waiting at the 
entrance for my cue, but when it came, I was 
powerless to move. The stage manager thrust 
me on, and I stood there speechless. I could 

92 



SALAD DAYS 

hear him hoarsely begging me to come off. I 
don't know how I managed to obey, but I did. 

"Why didn't you speak the line ?" demanded 
the irate stage manager. 

I said, "I thought I did," and there is a 
doubt in my mind even now as to the cer- 
tainty of that spoken line. 

At one time I was ambitious to become a 
ballet dancer. The idea presented itself after 
seeing the Rigl Sisters dance, and on my way 
home, I saw stage dancing advertised at fifty 
cents a lesson. After considering the matter 
carefully, I decided to make the plunge, and 
invested one dollar in two lessons. During the 
interview a pair of spangled red shoes was pre- 
sented to my view ; for another dollar I might 
possess them. Though they were much worn, 
— though carefully darned, — and my feet were 
somewhat cramped in them, nevertheless they 
were little red shoes with spangles. To me they 
were very beautiful, — and for one dollar they 
would be my very own ! On my next visit I 

93 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

bought them, but I had some difficulty in en- 
joying my little red shoes, as my family were 
not aware of my ambition to become a ballet 
darfter. After retiring to my room at night, 
I would place them first on a chair near my 
bed, so I could admire them by lamplight, 
then tie them on the bedpost, and often even 
get out of bed after I had put out my light, and 
strike a match in order again to admire them. 
Several falls in the seclusion of my chamber 
and a real heart-to-heart talk with Manager 
Williams, however, convinced me that nature 
never intended me for a ballet dancer. 

Another discouraging incident occurred while 
we were playing " Robert Macaire." During 
an old-fashioned country dance, we were 
dancing madly "All hands around", when my 
partner let go my hand. The scene closed, 
shutting me out, and I found myself sitting on 
the stage in full view of the audience, and 
alone. I was obliged to get up and make a 
hasty exit, which the audience enjoyed, if I 

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SALAD DAYS 

didn't. I was heartbroken, and shed bitter 
tears on my way to the dressing room. I 
remember Mr. Harry Crisp, who was a hand- 
some, splendid actor of that day and an adured 
" Matinee Idol" (he was a brother of the late 
Speaker Crisp of the United States House of 
Representatives), and Nate Salsbury tried to 
console me, but I was inconsolable. I felt that 
my career had come to an end. 

Mr. Salsbury was a good actor and a good 
dreamer as well. It is told of him that in his 
sleep he saw visions of his future success. He 
was once heard to mutter in his dreams, "Who 
is Barnum?" "What are three rings? I'll 
have five in my show." And he did, in a 
measure, as the producer of "Black America." 
He became a partner of Buffalo Bill in the 
Wild West Show and made a fortune from that 
venture. 

My recollection of the younger men of the 
Company is somewhat vague, for the reason, 
perhaps, that shortly after I joined the Com- 

95 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

pany, James Nolan attracted me, and so com- 
pletely claimed my attention and spare moments 
that we were married, April 13, 1873, after a six 
months' courtship. To his fine character and 
dramatic discrimination I owe much. 

Of the young actresses in the Company, those 
who claimed my admiration were Mary Cary, 
Laura Phillips, and Amy Ames. Mary Cary was 
a charming little actress with a most fascinat- 
ing personality, both on and off the stage. 
She excelled in parts such as Poor Joe in 
" Bleak House" and Oliver Twist in the play 
of " Oliver Twist", and was one of the best 
ingenues of that day. She was adored by the 
members of the Company. 

Collecting souvenirs was her delight. I re- 
member when the old Elm on Boston Common 
was blown down, my husband, who was also a col- 
lector, managed to get a bit of the old tree, and 
when he reached the theater, asked me to take it 
to Mary's dressing room and show it to her. 
She was delighted, and thanking me profusely, 

96 



SALAD DAYS 

locked it up in her dressing-case, and skipped 
on to the stage before I had a chance to explain. 
I was in a dilemma ! I knew my husband 
would think me stupid, but I just couldn't ask 
her for it. I managed, however, to get another 
bit of the tree for him, and "All's well that 
ends well." 

Mary lived just across the street from the 
Museum, where Houghton and Dutton's store 
is now. After the matinee, she accustomed 
herself to a little nap. One night when the 
curtain was about to rise, it was discovered 
that Mary was not in the theater, so a mes- 
senger was sent in great haste to her home. 
She was fast asleep, but it didn't take her long 
to get to the theater, and I rushed her into her 
costume so she was ready just in time. I 
remember her little pet dog, Gabby (she was 
called Gabby because she actually chattered), 
very much resented the excitement, and during 
the evening poor little Mary would say, "Oh, 
dear, I am so ashamed; aren't you, Gabby?" 

97 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Charles Stevenson, a popular member of the 
company, was quite devoted to Mary Cary in 
those days. He was a member of the "Old 
Macaroni Club", which was composed of a 
select coterie of literary men and actors who 
gathered for their social meetings at the Parker 
House. After the club disbanded, the china, 
which was very choice, was presented to Mary 
Cary, as it was marked "M C", just as a token 
of their regard and admiration for the charming 
actress and their popular club member. 

Miss Laura Phillips impressed me pleasantly. 
She was very jolly and good-natured, and a 
popular member of the Company. 

Miss Amy Ames, the daughter of Joseph 
Ames, the celebrated portrait painter, played 
soubrette parts, and I remember that she was 
quite remarkable in Irish characters. She had 
had an Irish nurse, with whom much of her 
childhood was associated, and had acquired a 
natural brogue. She was delightfully pert in 
comedy characters. Miss Ames was very ac- 

9 8 



SALAD DAYS 

complished. She possessed a splendid singing 
voice, and was a thorough musician and 
linguist. 

A rumor arose that Miss Ames had passed 
on to the land where there are no rehearsals, 
and every one is letter-perfect. As a matter of 
fact she was living abroad, in the full enjoyment 
of health and happiness, and had the pleasure 
of reading her own obituary, also of sending 
it back to the newspaper that printed it, with 
a corrected copy to be rewritten for the next 
announcement. 

My mind drifts to dear Margaret Parker. 
When I joined the Company, she had been a 
member for years, and had seen many changes. 
She said when she began her career, contracts 
were rarely used, — usually there was merely 
a letter, stating the amount of salary agreed 
upon ("if worth it"). The lines of business 
were more closely followed in those days. The 
young woman engaged for "respectable" utility 
parts must possess an evening gown, and the 

99 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

young man a dress suit, this being a full 
equipment for a respectable utility position. 
Miss Parker was an actress who always 
carried a handkerchief when on the stage, 
because she was always ill-at-ease unless she 
had something in her hand. She told me 
it was a habit formed as a beginner, and she 
warned me against the temptation. She was 
a whole-souled, good-natured woman, ever 
ready to give advice and share her costumes 
with a beginner. Unfortunately, she was not 
my size. That fact was impressed upon my 
mind because of the following incident : 

We were playing "Clancarty. " Miss Parker 
played an old Scotch woman, and one night she 
was not able to appear because of sudden ill- 
ness. I was engaged in a " thinking part", and 
was selected to fill the gap. The costume she 
wore was impossible for me, for I was quite 
small in those days, and she was very tall. 
Fortunately I happened to have an Irish peasant 
costume, which I donned, and appeared upon 

IOC 



SALAD DAYS 

the stage. I was of course very nervous, and 
played the part with a pronounced Irish brogue. 
The actors in the scene were very much 
amused, but I was almost heartbroken. 

After the play that night, I went to the 
stage manager — Mr. Fred Williams — and 
tearfully explained the situation. He was very 
kind and encouraging, and praised me for 
playing the part, saying that he didn't see any 
reason why the character might not be an 
Irishwoman as well as a Scotchwoman, and 
asked me to play it as an Irish peasant dur- 
ing the run of the piece. I discovered that 
night that the brogans and the little Irish plaid 
shawl insisted upon their own Irish atmosphere. 

Mrs. Fred Williams filled the position of 
what was called " Singing Chambermaid", and 
was very popular with the audiences of that 
day. The Williams family all were very attrac- 
tive. Mr. Williams' sister, Aunt Belle, I recall 
as a dear soul, whose kindly spirit pervaded the 
household. There were two children, Fritz and 

IOI 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Sallie, who were quite wonderful in musical 
studies. Fritz was carried on the stage when 
he was about six months old by Mr. Warren in 
the play of "Seeing Warren", it is said. At 
first he resented the familiarity of the players, 
and yelled lustily during the scene, but when 
there was a call at the end of the act, and Mr. 
Warren carried him on in his arms, he beamed 
at the audience and, waving his little hands 
"day-day", was repeatedly recalled. Mr. 
Warren, on returning the child to his fond 
mamma, said, "You have borne a good actor: 
he knows how to take a call." The Williamses 
always entertained on Sunday nights, and at 
their home might be found truly Bohemian 
spirits. Some of Boston's most prominent 
people in the artistic world, — painters, actors, 
writers, — and personages who visited Boston, 
eventually found their way to the Fred 
Williamses' Sunday nights. 

When Mr. Williams left Boston, he became 
stage director for Mr. Daniel Frohman at the 

1 02 



SALAD DAYS 

Lyceum Theater, and during Sothern's produc- 
tion of "Hamlet" he was taken ill. After an 
illness of less than three days, he died and, as 
he often expressed the wish, in harness. He 
was a gentleman of the old school, and a man 
of rare artistic sense. 

William J. LeMoyne was another player of 
marked ability. His acting in the old comedies 
was of a rare kind, and his Sir Anthony 
Absolute never has been surpassed. He was 
indeed an actor of the Old School which, I fear, 
has passed out. He was so good-natured and 
fatherly that I often went to him for advice 
and to ask what the next week's play was to 
be, and if he thought there was a part in it for 
me. I remember on one occasion he said : 

"Oh, yes, you will be in the next week's play ; 
there's a nice little part for you, I think. You 
will play a little Irish pixie, and you carry a 
little pick-ax. Now, be sure and ask the 
' property man ' to make you a nice one." 

So I rushed off at once and requested him to 
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OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

make me a nice little pick-ax. Failing to 
understand, the "property man" sent me to the 
stage manager, — and all the time Mr. LeMoyne 
was chuckling with glee in some dark corner. 
He enjoyed playing on me the usual tricks 
practised on the beginner. The favorite one 
is to send the novice for the key of the curtain. 
Another is to ask some aged member of the 
company for a box of wrinkles. 

Dear Mr. LeMoyne ! We missed him ; he 
was always so sunny. Mr. LeMoyne and my 
husband were very congenial, both being lovers 
of old books. We spent many pleasant Sundays 
at his cozy home in Cambridge, where he 
lived in those days. I am the proud possessor 
of some rare old volumes presented to Mr. 
Nolan, autographed by him ; also a very old 
photograph on which is written "A thing of 
beauty is a joy forever", signed "W. J. Le 
Moyne." 

Reviving old memories brings to my mind 
dear Dan Maguinnis. Dan was a close friend 

104 



SALAD DAYS 

of my husband, and he stood up with us when 
we were married in the little church of St. 
Joseph's at the West End. I remember how 
fine I felt in my new "Ashes of Roses" frock 
and a pale blue velvet bonnet, as I stood and 
waited at the window two long hours for my 
husband-to-be. Mr. Nolan, always punctual, 
was, of course, on time, but I had anticipated 
the hour. At last, he and Dan arrived, Dan in 
dress suit and silk hat, though it was mid- 
afternoon. That dress suit made a great im- 
pression upon me, and, though I assure you I 
didn't wish to exchange the men, I did wish 
the dress suit was on the bridegroom instead 
of on the best man. Dan was due to sing 
at a christening later, which explains his 
costume. 

When we were first married, we lived out on 
the "Old Mill Dam." There were no cars, 
and we used to walk home after the play. To 
cover the long stretch of dreary road, we would 
often play horse, as children do, for amusement 

105 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

and to keep warm, using Mr. Nolan's long 
woolen muffler for reins. We didn't mind the 
journey after our long evening's toil for the 
reason that we were so healthy in mind and 
body. I was sixteen years old then, with 
dreams to come true, and at that age one is 
sure that dreams will come true. 

My husband was an optimist, a lover of 
children and nature. Almost any afternoon he 
might be seen strolling along over the "Mill 
Dam", accompanied by our setter dog, Dash, 
and some of the children of the neighborhood. 
The children were very fond of him, and would 
often ring the door-bell and ask if the dog and 
the dog's father could come out. 

When the old "Macaroni Club" was in exist- 
ence he was one of the leading members. The 
club gathered for their social meetings on 
Sunday nights at the old Parker House. Joe 
Rammetti, a musician in the orchestra and 
connected with the Museum for years, was 
selected as " chef." I looked forward with delight 

1 06 



SALAD DAYS 

to the Sunday club nights. My husband was 
an interesting story-teller, and would relate 
the happenings in his inimitable way; telling 
how Joe would instruct the guests in manipu- 
lating the macaroni from the plate to the 
mouth, his volatile movements and broken 
English causing much merriment. Joe never 
failed to put an orange and a nice red apple in 
my husband's coat pocket for me. 

After the Macaroni Club had disbanded, a few 
of the choice spirits used to meet every Thurs- 
day night after the play at a little Bohemian res- 
taurant. There were Sir Randal Roberts, Joe 
Bradford, John Boyle O'Reilly, Doctor Harris, 
Joe Shannon, and Mr. Nolan. I was the only 
feminine member of the party, and was allowed 
to accompany my husband. I rarely joined in 
the conversation; I was very young and they 
were very brilliant. After supper I would drop 
off to sleep and remain oblivious to brilliant 
wit and tobacco smoke till my husband waked 
me up, and we departed for home in the "wee 

107 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

sma' hours." How I should appreciate now an 
evening of such rare companionship and friend- 
ship ! 

Bostonians took great delight in Mr. Nolan's 
acting ; he always received hearty receptions 
and special praise for his work. He was, as 
one of our best critics has said, a natural actor, 
and it will be long before the older generation 
of playgoers will forget him. Mr. John Bouve 
Clapp, in one of his articles on the Boston 
Museum, writes : "A member who is recalled 
with great pleasure by Boston playgoers is 
James Nolan, who through his long career as a 
member of the stock company, acquired a 
sterling reputation as an actor of comedy 
characters. He was born in Boston. His edu- 
cation was obtained at the Dwight Grammar 
School. When he was fourteen he went to 
work in an architect's office. He applied for a 
position at the Boston Museum in 1858, ap- 
pearing for the first time as one of the servants 
in ' The School for Scandal.' " 

108 



SALAD DAYS 

Mr. Nolan's career was interrupted by the 
Civil War. When little more than a boy he en- 
listed as a volunteer, was dangerously wounded, 
and taken prisoner at Port Hudson. After his 
return from the war, he joined the Howard 
Athenaeum Company, opening in the part of 
Jacob Twigg in "Black-Eyed Susan." For a 
while he was in the support of Edwin Forrest, 
and was also a member of the Laura Keane 
Company at one time. 

He was for a season at the old National 
Theater, under Mr. Whitman's management. 
He made a pronounced hit that season in 
the part of Bettoni in "Cinderella", receiving 
many "scene" calls. The play was produced 
with a famous caste — including Fanny Daven- 
port, Kitty Blanchard, James Lewis, and Dan 
Maguinnis. He retired from the National 
Theater at the end of that season and again 
rejoined the Boston Museum Company, where 
he remained until his retirement. 

His success proved that he made no mistake 
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OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

when he gave up architecture for acting. He 
was indeed a natural actor and a conscientious 
one. The mellowness of his acting in such 
parts as Launcelot Gobbo in "Merchant of 
Venice", the apothecary in "Romeo and 
Juliet", and the grave-digger in "Hamlet" 
will long be remembered. There were certain 
Dickens' characters that he played with a 
wonderful fidelity to life ; his Artful Dodger 
in "Oliver Twist" has never been excelled. 
Trip in "The School for Scandal" was another 
stage portrait. He could elaborate a bit into 
an important character. The importance of a 
character is not always valued by the length 
and the number of lines. He played all parts 
well and brought to prominence many a small 
part that in the hands of a commonplace actor 
would have been slighted and considered of 
little value. He was a thorough student and a 
conservative actor, spending much of his time 
in libraries and literary gatherings. He died 
on October 20, 1894. 

no 



SALAD DAYS 

In this year of Our Lord, 1915, when the 
trenches in Belgium and France are filled with 
hundreds of brave English and French actors, 
opposed by as many equally determined Ger- 
man actors, my mind reverts to the time when 
my husband, who was a soldier in the Forty- 
eighth Massachusetts Regiment and fought 
at Port Hudson under General N. P. Banks 
(who was also at one time in the ranks of the 
player folk), used to tell me of his old comrades 
and fellow actors, several of whom were at the 
Museum at that time, among them James 
Burrows, who had fought in the Army of the 
Potomac all through the great Civil War; 
William J. LeMoyne, Nate Salsbury, a good 
soldier in the Fifty-ninth Illinois, and Law- 
rence Barrett, who was a major In the same 
company as LeMoyne. Harry Crisp, a hand- 
some young actor, was with us in those days. 
He had been one of Stonewall Jackson's men, 
and had faced in battle the very Yankee regi- 
ment of which Burrows was a member. It 

in 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

was a great treat to hear those actors tell war 
stories in the greenroom. How we enjoyed 
their good-natured tilts ! They were at all 
times the best of friends and bore not the least 
trace of resentment. Burrows would say to 
my husband : 

" Barney, I wonder what ever became of that 
barefooted Reb we captured at the Battle of 
Malvern Hill ? By the way, he belonged to 
your regiment, Harry." 

Crisp would flush a bit and say: "Oh! 
yes, Tenth Virginny ! A bully little regiment ! 
I hated to leave it ! Well, they were simple 
farmer lads, but, oh! couldn't they fight!" 

My recollection of the War was very vague, 
but my husband insisted on my telling this 
little story about myself whenever reminis- 
cences of the war were given. I remember 
I was playing in the schoolyard (Bennett 
School, North End), when the schoolmaster 
rushed into the yard and shouted excitedly : 
"Three cheers, children ! Richmond is taken !" 

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SALAD DAYS 

The children, the teachers, and the master 
cheered lustily, and I cheered too; but I knew 
little of the meaning of war. I was only 
familiar with Richmond Street, near where I 
lived. When I reached home, I told my 
mother: " Richmond Street is taken, and the 
children were so glad, and we all cheered three 
cheers." 

Of those six gallant soldier boys then at the 
Museum, there is but one left to answer the 
roll-call — James Burrows — who has re- 
freshed my memory and contributes the follow- 
ing account of our Confederate and Union 
soldier actors who appeared at the Museum 
from time to time. 

"There was a wholesome, mutual respect 
for the fighting qualities of either side, so that 
when the Museum actors met at Philippi or 
on Bosworth Field, they fought as Romans or 
English, as the case might be, without any 
trace of bitterness as former actual foes on real 
fields of battle. There is a formidable list of 

113 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

names of men who fought on either side in the 
Civil War and afterwards met as fellow players 
on the Museum stage. William Harris was a 
captain in the Thirty-fourth Ohio, a regiment 
once commanded by no less a person than 
Rutherford B. Hayes, afterwards President of 
the United States. William J. LeMoyne was 
a gallant captain in the Twenty-eighth 
Massachusetts, and greatly distinguished him- 
self at the Battle of South Mountain. Law- 
rence Barrett was a major in the Twenty- 
eighth Massachusetts ; and W. E. Sheridan, 
a captain in the Sixth Ohio, became Chief 
Signal Officer on General George H. Thomas's 
staff. Major D. H. Harkins, who played with 
us as a member of Richard Mansfield's Com- 
pany, had a distinguished career in the Fifth 
New York Cavalry. Harry Meredith was a 
bluejacket in the navy, as was also Joe 
Sullivan, who was Master of Properties for 
many years at the Museum and afterwards at 
the Boston Theater. When Charles Wyndham 

114 






SALAD DAYS 

played his last engagement at the Boston 
Theater, Joe was told to set the stage for a 
rehearsal of 'My Uncle's Will.' He had done 
that for years at the Museum, and so could 
hardly wait for details from Wyndham's lips. 
He showed signs of familiarity with the situa- 
tion which prompted Wyndham to ask if he 
had ever set the piece before. 

*"Oh! About a hundred times, I think,' 
said Joe. 

"'Where ?' asked Wyndham. 

"'At the Boston Museum, for Mr. Barron 
and Miss Clarke,' was Joe's reply. Wyndham 
concluded not to play a piece which had been 
seen so many times at another theater in Boston. 

"J- J- Wallace, the most diminutive 'Heavy 
Man' I had ever seen, was a Confederate sol- 
dier in the Artillery. He was gifted with the 
biggest voice I ever heard from a small man. 
He was wont to build up his stature by means 
of special boots and shoes with very high heels, 
and in some measure made his figure conform 

US 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

to his voice. No doubt there are some theater- 
goers who are able to recall his performance of 
'Meg Merrilies' which he played once for his 
benefit. It was said to rival that of Charlotte 
Cushman. It was surely a striking impersona- 
tion and not easily forgotten. 

"Joseph Polk, who came to the Museum with 
his comedy of 'Mixed Pickles', was also a gal- 
lant Confederate soldier. I think that com- 
pletes the list of actual soldiers who played 
with us from time to time. 

"I am glad to have known many of those 
Museum soldier actors and doubly glad to 
testify to their worth. They were not the 
frivolous, light-headed, or as one may say, 
selfish beings that some people think them to 
have been, but men of courage, who had the 
stamina to fight for their convictions." 



116 



CHAPTER VIII 

Three Comedians 

GEORGE W. WILSON made his appear- 
ance at the Museum in 1877, appear- 
ing as Roderigo in "Othello", and from that 
time until the close of the Stock Company in 
1894, played a variety of parts, grave and gay, 
that won for him the reputation of being one 
of the best character comedians in this country. 
He was a Boston boy, educated at the Quincy 
School on Tyler Street, and his first position 
after leaving school was in the Suffolk Bank. 
He said that his spare time was occupied in 
reading playbooks. He managed to get into 
amateur theatricals, and was at one time a 
member of the Mercantile Amateur Associa- 
tion on Summer Street. From there he drifted 
to the Boston Theater, where he remained for 

four or five years. 

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OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Mr. Wilson's first success at the Museum was 
in the part of Uriah Heep in "David Copper- 
field." Mr. LeMoyne had played the part 
many times in previous seasons, and was sup- 
posed to be unrivaled in the character, and 
indeed his portrayal was truly wonderful. Mr. 
Wilson gave an entirely different conception, 
however, and was equally successful in the role. 

He was a student in his chosen profession, 
and made a very careful study of every 
character he portrayed. His make-ups were 
individual, and marvels of artistry. The 
characters most strongly impressed on my 
mind were Goldfinch, Bob Acres, and Tony 
Lumpkin. His playing of Bunthorne in 
"Patience" won for him another success on 
its first hearing, as did also his artistic per- 
formance of Sir Joseph Porter in "Pinafore." 
I think his portrayal of Crabtree in "The School 
for Scandal" the best I have ever seen. 

He told me that when he first joined the 
Museum Company, the old comedies were new 

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THREE COMEDIANS 

to him, and it was not unusual to have half a 
dozen parts to study within a week, including 
comedy, tragedy, and farce. One can easily 
understand there was little time for outside 
recreation. He said he lived directly opposite 
the Museum, over Papanti's Dancing Academy, 
and night in and night out the midnight oil 
continued burning until daybreak. Actors be- 
lieve that to be able to retain Shakespearean 
lines they should be slept on. George Wilson 
disproved that rule, for during the first of his 
engagement at the Museum he had little chance 
for sleep. 

Mr. Wilson's most famous and perhaps 
greatest success was as Old Macclesfield in 
"The Guv'nor." Memories of the old boat- 
man and the expression he used through the 
play, "Yer 'and, Guv'nor, Yer 'and," will long 
live in the minds of its hearers. 

Mrs. Vincent, too, as the dear old wife of 
the boatman, was true to life. I remember 
how much I enjoyed playing the character even 

119 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

at a disadvantage. Mrs. Vincent was taken ill 
at the theater and I was given her part. I had 
enjoyed the play and had watched it from the 
wings so often that I was nearly letter perfect, 
but going on without a rehearsal and plunging 
suddenly into the midst of the play, caused me 
to be seized with a very curious sort of nervous- 
ness, in the form of a twitching foot that in- 
sisted upon dancing about whenever I was 
seated. Do what I would, I couldn't stop it, 
but with Mr. Wilson's kindly assistance, I got 
through the evening very well. Mrs. Vincent 
recovered and was ready to play the next 
night, but on the way to her dressing room, she 
turned her ankle. Doctor Hofendahl, who was 
our physician in time of need, happened to be 
in the greenroom that evening and, after at- 
tending her, forbade her playing. The dear 
old soul wanted to play with a bandaged foot, 
but Doctor Hofendahl insisted upon taking her 
home in his carriage. After that I played the 
part for some time. 

1 20 



THREE COMEDIANS 

The parents of George Wilson had intended 
him for the ministry, and their son's choice 
was regarded with much disfavor. When 
young George had really decided upon his 
career, his father took him aside and gravely 
said: "My son, now that you have chosen the 
path through the mire, remember there must 
be a barrier between us," and that barrier 
existed till the end of time. His parents never 
saw him in a play. After his father died, he 
tried to coax his mother to see him in a favorite 
part, but it was of no avail. She said: "No, 
my son ; I never went to the theater when your 
father was alive, and I don't think he would 
care to have me go now." 

Mr. Wilson has always stayed in harness, 
keeping abreast of the times, and is at present 
doing splendid work in Mr. Sothern's Company. 
He had many offers to accept stellar honors 
during his stay at the Museum, but he was con- 
tent to remain in Boston among the people who 
so greatly appreciated his artistic efforts. 

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OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

J. A. Smith was born in Philadelphia in 1813. 
"Smithy" — as he was called by his associates 
— was an unusual actor of foppish characters, 
and assuredly the best dresser of stage fops I 
have ever seen, always correct and never 
exaggerated. 

An amusing story is told of Mr. Smith's first 
engagement in Boston, where he was engaged 
to play at the National Theater. He sent his 
wardrobe on by freight, and he came on by 
train. When he arrived in Boston, he was 
very homesick, — the streets seemed so narrow 
and crooked, — and he was very lonely, so 
back he started for his home in Philadelphia, 
forgetting all about his wardrobe and without 
even calling on the manager. When he arrived 
home, his mother welcomed him with open 
arms. She was very much opposed to the 
theater, and "Smithy", who was a tailor as 
well as an actor, declared then and there that 
he would give up the stage. But alas, the 
best laid plans of mice and men, etc. ! The wily 

122 



THREE COMEDIANS 

stage manager in Boston refused to send back 
his wardrobe, so "Smithy" was obliged to 
return and fill his engagement. Sir Benjamin 
Backbite in "The School for Scandal" and 
Jerome Splendidsilk in "The Silver Spoon" won 
for him great praise. 

Mr. Smith was a devout Roman Catholic. 
During Lent, he never failed to attend Mass 
every morning ; even when we were playing 
on the road, in the smallest towns, his first 
duty was to locate a church. I remember one 
dark morning Miriam O'Leary and myself ac- 
companied him. It was in Plymouth town, 
and a very early Mass was held in the basement 
of the church. The stairs were steep and 
dark, and we had to grope our way. "Smithy" 
and Miriam landed in safety, while I slid down 
several steps, causing quite a commotion. 
They passed on, paying no attention whatever to 
me, leaving me to recover myself as best I could. 

Mrs. Vincent and he were very dear friends 
and were continually playing practical jokes on 

123 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

one another. He used to call her Mary Ann. 
Mr. Smith was a member of the Company for 
more than thirty years. He retired, and spent 
the last of his days at the Forrest Home for 
Actors. He made occasional visits to his friends 
in Boston, however. The city and its people 
whom he had grown to love owed him much 
for his share of entertainment, and he was very 
much endeared to all Bostonians. 

" Uncle Jim Ring" came to the Museum in 
1853, according to the "Chronological Record", 
but he was a favorite comedian at the old 
National Theater on Portland Street many 
years before that date. I note his name and 
that of Mrs. Ring in a program of the National, 
bearing the date of November 11, 1846. This 
program also marked the first appearance of Mr. 
and Mrs. J. R. Vincent on any stage in this coun- 
try. The bill for the evening was "The Wizard 
of the Wave" and "Popping the Question", 
Mrs. Vincent appearing only in the farce. 

124 






o 



THREE COMEDIANS 

When I came to the Museum in 1872, "Uncle 
Jim" had been there so long that he seemed to 
me to be about a thousand years old. Not in 
appearance, for he was simply a cherub grown 
up and supplied with modern clothes. I do 
not think any one ever called him by any other 
name than "Uncle Jim." He stood in that 
relation to all of the company, old or young, 
and by his unfailing good nature and sunny 
disposition lived up to the title. He was very 
fond of "going a-fishing", and spent many of 
his leisure hours in that innocent pastime. It 
did not seem to matter much to him how few 
fish he might catch, so that he had a fine day in 
the boat or by the brookside. To be "bathed 
in green", as he expressed it, was his delight. 
No doubt this habit prolonged his life and kept 
him young at an advanced age. 

He visited England and France when still a 
young man as a member of one of the first 
black-faced minstrel companies ever seen in 
those countries. He used to tell that one day, 

125 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

when he had gone just outside of London for 
a little fishing, he heard a voice calling to him 
from a bridge over his head, " Hullo! The 
last time I saw you, you were fishing on the 
Mill Dam in Boston." "Uncle Jim" dropped 
his rod and ran up the bank, only to find that 
his unknown friend, with true Boston reticence, 
had walked on without leaving his card. 

"Uncle Jim" was fond of telling how he once 
called by request to see the mother of an actor 
friend, who occupied some kind of a position 
(housekeeper, I think) in a pretentious London 
house. He walked up the steps, in his free 
American manner, and rang the bell. A pom- 
pous footman came to the door, who, when he 
learned that the caller wished to see the house- 
keeper, gave him a look that was intended to 
wither the caller, and said, as he pointed to the 
area, "The hother door!" I can see "Uncle 
Jim" now as he leaned back in his chair and 
laughed, as he recalled the pompous flunky. 

My husband was his dressing room mate, 
126 



THREE COMEDIANS 

and was never so happy as when he had finished 
dressing for his part and made a place for Mr. 
Warren to come in and have his little chat and 
smoke before the curtain went up. Then 
"Uncle Jim" was at his best. He had just the 
tact needed to start Mr. Warren on one of his 
story-telling flights. If one could have taken 
those stories down, they would have been of 
rare interest to the people of this generation. 
There was never any bitterness or sting in 
those delightful talks about the men and events 
of that day. Unluckily my husband was not 
a Boswell, nor was there any one of that school 
in the old Museum, so the old tales — the 
flashes of wit and wisdom — passed out at the 
doors and windows, and were lost to the world. 
I recall just one of Mr. Warren's sayings 
which may serve as a sample of his way of 
putting things. He had been out of the bill, 
and so had an opportunity to witness the per- 
formance of his cousin, Joseph Jefferson, in 
"The Rivals." We had played the piece al- 

127 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

most as Sheridan wrote it, but Mr. Jefferson 
had made many changes and transpositions to 
suit his ideas of a good vehicle for a star. 
" Uncle Jim" asked Mr. Warren how he liked 
"Joe." Mr. Warren took his pipe out of his 
mouth, and with a twinkle in his blue eyes, 
replied, "Well, it seemed to me to be 'The 
Rivals' with 'Sheridan twenty miles away.'" 

"Uncle Jim" was the terror of the surly box- 
office man or the equally sour ticket-seller at 
a railroad ticket office. He hardly ever looked 
for gentle manners or even common courtesy 
at either place, so he had a little scene carefully 
rehearsed and always ready. He would start 
back and throw up his hands at the first gruff 
word and say, "Don't shoot! don't shoot!" 

The man in the office would sulkily reply, 
"Who is going to shoot? What do you 
mean ?" 

And then "Uncle Jim" would say, "Well, I 
thought by your manner you might reach for 
a gun." 

128 



THREE COMEDIANS 

Few actors had more or better friends than 
James H. Ring. He was such a favorite with 
the Boston public that his yearly benefit was a 
sure attraction. He was particularly good in 
such parts as Sam Gerridge in "Caste", or in 
almost any of the simple rustic characters of 
the English comedies. Of course he was suc- 
cessful in his black-face roles, for that was one 
of the strong features of his early life. 

I recall one occasion in "Uncle Tom's 
Cabin", where the slavedriver, Haley, was 
storming at him. The actor playing Haley 
had been furnished with a huge property dirk- 
knife. The knife had a tendency to tumble 
out of his pocket when he climbed over the set 
pieces In pursuit of George Harris, so he had 
sewed it into the pocket of his coat, not noticing 
that the ring he had fastened to his pocket was 
attached to the handle of the dirk and not to 
the scabbard. When he tried to draw the knife 
and make good his threat to cut the heart out 
of the poor black, the knife would not come out 

129 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

to "suit the action to the word." "Uncle 
Jim", to save the scene, looked at the angry- 
Haley still tugging away at his knife, and said, 
"Don't hurry yo'se'f! Don't hurry yo'se'f!" 
The audience "caught on" at once and shouted 
with laughter. 

It was said that Mrs. Stowe came to the 
Museum just once to see this version of her 
story, and left in high dudgeon when she had 
heard a few lines of Mr. Warren's part. He 
played an interpolated character, Penetrate 
Party-side, a broad Yankee part in Doctor 
J. S. Jones's best manner, but the matter was 
too much for Mrs. Stowe. Here are the lines 
that drove her out. Penetrate is prescribing a 
remedy for headache which was as follows : 

"Hoss-hufT parin's — they must be burnt into 
a pan till they frizzle and then sniffed tew. 
They must be sniffed tew strong and off en." 
Perhaps this caused Mrs. Stowe's head to ache, 
as she never came back to hear the rest of the 
play. 

130 



THREE COMEDIANS 

The late John Boyle O'Reilly was a personal 
friend and great admirer of our genial come- 
dian. Those who had the pleasure of sharing 
his little dressing room at the Museum heard 
at first hand many incidents of the escape from 
Australia and the things that lead up to 
O'Reilly's arrest, conviction, and transportation. 

"Uncle Jim" lived up on the hill behind the 
State House, and was pretty sure to stop at 
the Revere House on his way home after the 
play. O'Reilly was something of a Bohemian, 
and delighted to make one of the little party of 
actors, authors, and horsemen usually to be 
found at the Revere House on Saturday nights. 
"Uncle Jim" was a good listener and heard 
things worth the hearing. I have been told 
that on one occasion, at least, after the com- 
pany had stayed the limit of time at the 
Revere, "Uncle Jim" suggested that they 
adjourn to his house and see if Jule (Mrs. 
Ring) did not cook the best Boston baked 
beans they had ever eaten. Just think of that 

131 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

party of six stalwart men invading Mrs. Ring's 
kitchen at two o'clock in the morning. Of 
course the lady had retired, and did not know 
that her oven was being despoiled of its Sunday 
breakfast. The beans were all eaten and pro- 
nounced "the best ever", and " Uncle Jim" 
was called the "Prince of Hosts", but that did 
not still the conscience of at least one of the 
number. Frank Hardenberg said it was an 
outrage to eat up the family provisions like so 
many wild beasts, and he demanded a silver 
offering from each man to make good their 
work of destruction, saying, "Now, boys, 
don't hunt up the smallest coin you have, but 
just chip in the largest." That was what they 
did, and the result enabled Mrs. Ring to 
send out to the baker's on Sunday morning 
for all the beans needed to furnish the break- 
fast for her family, and left a little handful of 
silver for other things. 

"Uncle Jim" was a good husband and a 
happy father, and a still more happy grand- 

132 



THREE COMEDIANS 

father, if one may judge by the pride and de- 
light he took in his winning and talented 
granddaughters. How he would have delighted 
in the success of Blanche Ring, if he could have 
lived to witness it. She has fulfilled the prom- 
ise of her youth, and has shown to the people 
of this day a glimpse of the merry, light- 
hearted, sunny disposition that she surely in- 
herited from her grandfather, our old comedian. 
"Uncle Jim" was sometimes a little puzzling 
to visiting stars. He would watch a scene, and 
when the star made an exit near him, he would 
say : " I'm very much pleased with you." 
The star might not understand that this was 
"Uncle Jim's" way of paying a compliment, 
but before the engagement ended, he was sure 
to be put right, either by one of the Company 
or by the genial comedian himself. "Uncle 
Jim" was said to have tried this with Augustin 
Daly, but with what success may be inferred 
from the fact that he remained only one season 
at that theater. 

133 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

It is said that when Anderson, an eminent 
English actor, came to the National Theater 
to play his first engagement, " Uncle Jim" was 
the prompter. Mr. Anderson was late at 
rehearsal, and the manager dismissed the com- 
pany, leaving "Uncle Jim" to explain to the 
star. Anderson came in, full of bustle, and 
seeing the empty stage asked, "Where is the 
company ?" 

"Gone to their farms," said "Uncle Jim." 

"Gone to their farms? What do you mean, 
sir?" asked the surprised Anderson. 

"Why, our people all own farms, and can't 
wait around for any star," was "Uncle Jim's" 
reply. Mr. Anderson was not late the next 
day. 

"Uncle Jim" did not ask much of this world 
— just a few warm friends and a great many 
good books, for he was an omnivorous reader. 
I have seen the large collection of an old friend 
(a former member of the Museum Company), 
in which each and every book is marked with 

134 



THREE COMEDIANS 

the sign "1x1", which was the mark that 
"Uncle Jim" placed on all the books he had 
read and liked. 

Perhaps "Uncle Jim" never played a part 
that fitted him better than that of Mr. Wilfer 
in "Gold Dust", a version of "Our Mutual 
Friend." In the words of Charles Dickens, 
"If the conventional cherub could ever grow 
up and be clothed, he might be photographed 
as a portrait of Wilfer." "Uncle Jim's" 
characterization of Wilfer was simply perfect. 
His chubby, smooth, innocent appearance fitted 
the part and made it seem like a picture out of 
the novel. 

Mr. Ring was an American only by a mere 
chance. He was born in South Boston just 
three days after his parents landed from a 
British vessel, in the year 1820. He died at 
Manchester-by-the-Sea, June 13, 1883. 



135 



CHAPTER IX 
The Two Reliables 

JAMES R. PITMAN was born in New Zea- 
land of English parentage, in 1842, and 
came to this country at an early age. He 
became a member of the Boston Museum 
Company in 1863, playing small parts and 
acting as captain of supernumeraries for some 
years. Finally, in 1869, he became prompter, 
a position he held until promoted to that of 
stage manager. 

He was a most efficient prompter, a position 
of more importance under the old system of 
constant change in plays than can well be 
understood now. From his position in the 
corner of the proscenium on the right of the 
stage, he controlled all of the stage mechanism. 
He could signal by bells and raps to the man 

136 



THE TWO RELIABLES 

in the flies who raised and lowered the curtain, 
to the man who managed the borders, in fact, 
to all of the unseen workers who had anything 
to do with the various effects in use during the 
progress of a play. Thunder, lightning, rain, 
hail, snow, sunshine, and shadow were at his 
command. He was an adept at simulating 
the barking of dogs and the crying of babies. 
If a carriage seemed to be driving up at the 
back of the scene, it was Pitman pushing a 
long pole over the rough boards of the stage, 
across the grain of the wood. He made the 
sound of horses coming or going, as the case 
might be, with the shells of cocoanuts split in 
halves and emptied of their meat. He sent 
armies on with a wave of his hand and marched 
them off again with a crack of his finger. He 
controlled the orchestra, in the matter of inci- 
dental music, by the flash of the footlights. In 
fact, every movement of his had a meaning for 
some one. 

He was a slave to duty, and was absolutely 
137 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

just In all his dealings with his fellows. He did 
not shield the delinquent nor attempt to curry 
favor with those In high places. Actors some- 
times tried to shield themselves and blame 
each other for any failure to speak at the 
proper time. It was useless for the guilty one 
to appeal to Pitman. He would say, "No, 
Sir, you are at fault. Didn't I hold the book ?" 
The prompt book was the law from which 
there was no appeal. Pitman would give the 
word at first in a loud, penetrating whisper, 
but if that did not start the dramatic wheels, 
he would shout it in a tone that would reach 
the back row in the gallery. I have heard of 
an old prompter who let his mind wander from 
the book, so that if a word were needed, he 
sometimes could not tell what had been spoken. 
At such times he would venture to whisper 
"Notwithstanding." James R. Pitman was 
not of that kind. He knew just where the 
dialogue had halted, and who had stopped the 
play. 

138 



THE TWO RELIABLES 

But Homer was said to nod at times, 
and even Pitman met his fate. " Speed the 
Plow" was being played for a single night. It 
had not been very well prepared, and some of 
the actors were not easy in their lines. In 
those days the greenroom was in a little tri- 
angular space just behind the prompt corner 
on the right of the stage. Frank Hardenberg, 
an excellent character actor, was standing in 
the greenroom door just behind the prompter. 
Pitman heard breakers ahead, as the voices of 
the actors on the stage ceased, but he knew 
who was wanted. He turned from his chair 
in the corner without rising from his stooping 
position, glanced into the greenroom, and not 
seeing the person he was after, turned and 
bolted down-stairs to the dressing rooms. 
Meanwhile Hardenberg still stood looking at 
the stage, saying, as he coolly surveyed the 
scene, "Three of them! All sticking!" until 
poor Pitman came rushing back, saying, " It's 
you! It's you ! Goon!" 

139 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Woe betide the poor actor who complained 
that Pitman gave the word too loud, or was too 
abrupt and excited when he came down to the 

dressing room and shouted, "Mr. , the stage 

is waiting for you." Pitman had an exquisite 
revenge the next time that actor made a wait. 
He would appear at the dressing room door and 

say in a low, casual tone, "Mr. , the stage 

has been waiting for you for five minutes." 
Stage waits were not common, so we remember 
the few times they did happen. 

In 1875, Genevieve Rogers was playing a 
big star engagement at the Museum. In the 
opening scene of her play, Georgia Tyler and 
Laura Phillips were talking, each seated at a 
table on opposite sides of the stage. One of 
the ladies needed the word, and Mr. Pitman 
gave it promptly. Neither lady would speak, 
so he gave it again in a loud tone. Still no 
response from the obstinate ladies on the stage. 
Finally, Miss Phillips arose from her table, 
sauntered up to the center door, and attempted 

140 



THE TWO RELIABLES 

to bring on the next character (Mr. O. H. 
Barr), saying, "Here comes Sir George!" 
Barr, standing upon his dignity, refused to 
come on, and instead of entering, said in a 
voice that could be heard all over the theater, 
"Not on your sweet life." Mr. Pitman had no 
alternative except to ring down the curtain and 
start the play all over again. 

This was the same Ollie Barr who, at the 
close of John McCullough's engagement that 
same season, had studied and played eleven 
parts in two weeks, — many of them new to 
him. The twelfth play was "Metamora", 
new to the entire Company. Barr was almost 
mad from lack of sleep and worry over his 
hard roles. At the first rehearsal, he was about 
to enter at a cue he was to receive from Mr. 
Burrows. Barr is seen off stage and some one 
asks, "Who comes yonder?" to which Mr. 
Burrows replies, "A moody youth somewhat 
o'erworn with study." The lines were so appli- 
cable to poor Barr that all the people on the 

141 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

stage set up a roar of laughter. This startled 
and vexed McCullough, who said, "What's the 
matter ? I didn't know there were any comedy 
lines in this scene." We saw the comedy of the 
situation all the same ! 

The most careful man will sometimes make 
mistakes. Mr. Pitman hardly ever failed to 
inspect the stage before ringing up the curtain, 
thus making sure that actors, scenes, and 
properties were in their correct positions. He 
failed once in all the years that I knew him ! 
The play was a little domestic comedy, "The 
Chimney Corner." It had been given all the 
week, so vigilance was relaxed. Mr. Robert 
McClannin, a splendid actor of old men's parts, 
was to be discovered sleeping in a chair by the 
fireside. Up went the curtain — he was not 
there ! Mr. Pitman tried to persuade him to 
go on and take his place in the chair. He 
could have done so without attracting the 
attention of one person in the audience, but 
his dignity as an actor was at stake, and he 

142 



THE TWO RELIABLES 

would not sacrifice that to save the scene, so 
the curtain was rung down, and the play started 
again. This was an extreme case. Many 
actors would have tried to save the scene, but 
our "old man" knew that he was clearly within 
his rights, and nothing could move him. 

Dear old Pitman! His "still small voice" 
in the prompt place was often our salvation. 
He always managed to live near the sea, and 
to keep a rowboat. There were many ardent 
disciples of Izaac Walton in the Company, and 
they made trips down the harbor in Pitman's 
boat, sometimes for cod at Faun Bar below 
Deer Island and, in the smelting season, all 
about the upper and lower harbor in quest of 
those shiny little fish. During a running play, 
they would even go down for half a day on 
Wednesday or Saturday, and return in time 
for the matinee. The catch was frequently 
abundant, for they were skillful anglers, and 
they delighted to bring their spoils up to the 
Museum as a gift to their fellow players. You 

143 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

may believe it was no mean gift. Such ab- 
solutely fresh fish could not be bought at any 
price in the Boston market. Nate Salsbury, 
J. W. Norris (who became the husband of 
pretty Josie Batchelder), and James Burrows 
were usually of this party. 

Little fishing excursions to Mystic Pond in 
Medford were common during the early autumn 
days, at which a much larger number would 
be present. Burrows usually acted as chef, 
assisted by Salsbury. W. J. LeMoyne would 
mix the salad, while William Warren, Dexter 
Smith (the music publisher and composer of 
many delightful old songs), Jimmy Nolan, 
"Uncle Jim" Ring, and half a score of disciples 
would look on while the fish were frying and 
the coffee making. It was a jolly group that 
gathered around the spread on the grass, and 
Mr. Warren would entertain the party with his 
rare jests and still more rare stories, which he 
told with much unction. He would always 
preface his stories with an apologetic remark, 

144 



THE TWO RELIABLES 

"I suppose this is an awful old chestnut," and 
follow that with something so apropos that 
even if it were old, it seemed new to all of his 
hearers. 

Joseph Jefferson asserted that Mr. Warren 
originated the use of the word " chestnut", 
very much in vogue in my early days. He says 
that there was a comedy called "The Broken 
Sword", in which Captain Zavier and Pablo, 
a comedy part, are the chief characters. The 
captain, a sort of Baron Munchausen in his 
way, says : 

"I entered the woods of Collaway, when 
suddenly from the thick boughs of a cork- 
tree— " 

Pablo interrupts him with the words, "A 
chestnut! Captain, a chestnut!" 

"Bah!" replies the captain. "Booby, I say 
a cork-tree !" 

"A chestnut," reiterates Pablo. "I should 
know as well as you, having heard you tell the 
story these twenty-seven times." 

145 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Mr. Warren, who had often played the part 
of Pablo, was once at a stag dinner when one of 
the guests told a story of doubtful originality. 

"A chestnut I" murmured Mr. Warren, quot- 
ing from the play, " I have heard you tell the tale 
these twenty-seven times." The application 
of the lines pleased the rest of the table, and 
when the party broke up, each helped to spread 
the story and Mr. Warren's commentary. And 
that, Mr. Jefferson believed, was the origin of 
the word "Chestnut." 

Those were delectable chestnuts that 
sputtered around the fire at Mystic Pond, and 
it was a contented group of actors that came 
back from their little outing and resumed their 
work of amusing the Boston public. Pitman 
was supremely happy at all such times, and 
never had to give the word but once when he 
held up his plate for another helping of fish 
and fried potatoes. 

The curtain has rung down for the last time 
upon all of that merry group except one, and 

146 



THE TWO RELIABLES 

he tells me that life is made much brighter and 
happier for him by the remembrance of those 
good old times. 

Mr. Pitman, after leaving the Museum, had 
many years of active and honorable work as 
stage director at the Castle Square and other 
theaters. He acquired a competency of this 
world's goods, and did not answer to the final 
summons until February, 19 14, at the age of 
seventy- two. 

James Burrows was born in North Chelms- 
ford, Massachusetts, May 14, 1842. His 
paternal ancestors came from England in 1635. 
His great-grandfather and his grandfather 
settled in Concord, Massachusetts, early in the 
1700 s, and were residing there at the outbreak 
of the War for Independence. Both were 
soldiers in the Continental army during the 
war period, — the former with the rank of 
captain — and both survived at its close, so 
that this actor can claim to be a true Yankee. 

147 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

The lad was hopelessly stage-struck before he 
had ever seen a theater, and he sent to New York 
for a dozen plays when he was only fourteen 
years old. The postmaster of the country 
village where he then lived refused to deliver 
them into his hands until he had opened and 
examined them, and then he urged the lad to 
burn them at once, as he thought such stuff 
unfit to be read. 

The boy's dramatic instinct found partial 
vent through recitations of poetry at school 
exhibitions. He states a harrowing experience 
when he figured as a " Colored Parson" at an 
entertainment for charity in the village church. 
His effort was a "Burlesque Colored Sermon." 
He had no knowledge of burned cork or its easy 
application and removal, so he was forced to 
make his face black with half-burned embers 
from the kitchen stove. Getting into an empty 
pew, he stooped from sight of the audience, 
and began to rub on the half powdered char- 
coal. The gritty particles tore his tender skin, 

148 



THE TWO RELIABLES 

and stung his flesh, so that long before his face 
was thought dark enough for the occasion, he 
was bleeding from numerous cuts, but he held 
out in the interests of art until he was pro- 
nounced black enough. It is needless to add 
that his success in removing the color was not 
brilliant. The hard water from the village 
pump, minus soap, did little more than set the 
color to a fast black, which stuck to the poor 
lad for days. 

When Burrows was seventeen, he came to 
Boston and began to write letters to managers, 
asking for any position on the stage. Those 
hard-working officials generally consigned his 
applications to the waste-paper basket, and he 
received only two replies, — one from W. H. 
Smith and one from Mr. E. F. Keach, both 
of the Boston Museum. The outbreak of 
the Civil War furnished him with a stage so 
wide, an action so sublime, that he ceased to 
sigh for the mimic world. He remained in the 
army until the close of the War, serving in 

149 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

the Sixteenth Massachusetts Infantry and the 
First United States Volunteer Veterans and 
taking part in thirty battles and skirmishes. 
This honorable service ended, he came back 
to Massachusetts with the same old longing 
for the stage, and began a new assault upon 
the managers through the United States mail. 
This time he had better luck. A courteous 
reply from Mr. R. M. Field requested him to 
call at the Boston Museum, January 17, 1866. 
He then learned that the only road for a novice 
was one that led through the supers' room, so 
he took that road, and was regularly entered 
as an apprentice. The play that had the 
longest run that season was "The Sons of the 
Cape", by Doctor J. S. Jones. Mr. Burrows 
had his share in making the cloth sea waves. 
He stood at the upper entrance on the right, 
and during the whole run never failed to be 
told by the nervous leading man, L. R. Shewell, 
just when to drop his portion of the cloth so 
that the boat with the hero might go on into 

ISO 



THE TWO RELIABLES 

the deep sea. If Mr. Shewell had only known 
that this young super was to be known in later 
years about the theater as "Old Reliable", 
because he was sure to be attentive to all of 
his duties, he would not have wounded the 
young man's feelings by his needless admoni- 
tions. 

When Mr. Shewell had his benefit that 
season, Mr. Burrows was cast for his first 
speaking part, — Francisco in "Hamlet." Mr. 
Field had promised to keep an eye on him, and 
finding that Burrows could make himself heard 
over the footlights, engaged him as a regular 
member of the Company for the ensuing year. 
The season opened August 15, 1866, with the 
young actor in the character of Dwindle in 
"Town and Country", and from that night on, 
he worked his way slowly from small beginnings 
to responsible characters. 

In August, 1874, he joined the Providence 
Opera House Company, and remained there 
one season. The call of Boston and his old 

I5i 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

associations was so strong that he could not 
remain away, and the season of 1875 found 
him back at the Museum, where he met a cordial 
welcome from the public and his fellow players. 
He had offers from time to time to go to New 
York and also to Philadelphia, but life at the 
Museum was so satisfying that he put all such 
temptation aside. 

Until 1888, he lived and worked in this ideal 
atmosphere, when Richard Mansfield induced 
him to go to London with him. This seemed 
such a good opportunity for an educational 
growth that Mr. Burrows could not well refuse 
it. The glamour of a London season could not 
keep him from harking back to the old 
Museum, however, so we again find his name 
in the list of the Company for the season of 
1 889-1 890. This time he had come home to 
stay, for he remained just as long as the old 
theater adhered to the stock company sys- 
tem, rounding out, in 1893, twenty-five full 
seasons. 

152 



THE TWO RELIABLES 

It was upon the stage of this historic house 
that Mr. Burrows found his wife that was to be 
in the person of Hattie A. Hill. 

It was here, also, when playing McCarty, in 
"Romany Rye", an Irish emigrant with a 
large family, that he carried his infant son, 
Warren Burrows, in his arms, thus giving him 
his "first appearance on any stage." William 
Warren was godfather to this lad, who has since 
followed in his father's and godfather's foot- 
steps on many stages throughout this country. 

Mr. Burrows was an interested witness of 
the gradual changes that took place in the 
personnel of the old Company, changes not 
entirely for the better. He recalls the fault- 
less performances of the classic old plays and 
contributes a notice of the last time "The Road 
to Ruin" was acted, with the suggestion that 
at no previous period could Boston critics have 
written such strictures. He had played in it 
nearly every season from 1866 to 1889. It had 
been regarded as one of the sure attractions, 

153 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

like "The School for Scandal", and had never 
failed to meet the unqualified approbation of 
both critics and public. 

NOTICE 

BOSTON MUSEUM: "THE ROAD TO 
RUIN" 

The old comedy season at the Museum opened 
Monday night with "The Road to Ruin" — a 
play that, in spite of its name, proved a road to 
success last year, as it is likely to do again. 
Last night's presentation, it must be admitted, 
was not faultless. Several of the leading actors 
were far from letter perfect in their parts, and 
there was in consequence not a little stumbling 
and some mumbling together with perfunctory 
periods that were quite the reverse of inspiring. 
The frequent blunders of the scene-shifters did 
not mend matters, and the material element of 
the performance might be distinctly improved 
were the chairs and tables arranged with a 
thought less of stiffness. But, notwithstanding 
these and other detractions, of which mention 
will be made later, the entertainment was one 
quite worthy the enviable fame of the Boston 
Museum as the standard comedy theater of 
Boston. 

The cast of characters this year is in the main 
the same as last year, and, generally speaking, 

154 



THE TWO RELIABLES 

the several personages of the drama are in able 
and congenial hands. Mr. Boniface's Old 
Dornton is a pleasure to the eye, and the dual 
nature of the irascible, warm-hearted old gen- 
tleman, hurling denunciations on the head of 
his son in one breath, and in the next with fond 
peevishness defending him against aspersions, 
which, compared with his own charges, are of 
small consequence, is convincingly presented, 
although marred by certain mannerisms which 
have apparently become constitutional with 
Mr. Boniface. As Harry Dornton, Mr. Plymp- 
ton is also very happy as to dress, and in manner 
he fits the part perfectly. He is the perfect 
picture of the impulsive human animal, aglow 
with health and intoxicated with the spirit of 
youth ; but it seems to be quite impossible for 
Mr. Plympton to restrain his natural tendency 
to overact wherever the opportunity offers. 
Mr. Davenport, Mr. Abbe, Miss Agnes Acres 
and Miss Fannie Addison each does excellent 
work, the last named especially. Her char- 
acterization of the self-seeking and husband- 
seeking widow is delicious and full of quiet 
touches of humor which a less gifted artist 
might fail of discovering. But the honors of 
the evening were clearly with what may be 
called the " big four ! " Mr. Wilson, Mr. Barron, 
Mr. Burrows, and Miss O'Leary. The Gold- 
finch of Mr. Wilson, as a low comedy character, 
gives a better balance to the play, according to 
modern notions, than a comedy part of more 
refined eccentricities, and is in the nature of a 

155 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

relief from the staid and sober strain which is 
the dominant feature of the play. Accepting 
Mr. Wilson's conception as the proper one, his 
performance is equal to some of his best efforts, 
and in make-up he is admirable. He is the 
horse-gentleman confessed in the grotesque cut 
of his clothing, and the jaunty, fly-away manner 
it is worn, in the strut and swagger, in the 
elevation of the elbow, and especially in the 
parenthetical legs, which are in themselves a 
triumph of art. 

Mr. Barron is so completely un-Barroned as 
Silky that his identity is completely lost, and 
it was several minutes last night before he 
was generally recognized. His acting of the 
character is throughout a very superior 
achievement, ranking with his best and one 
can hardly say too much in his praise. Sulky 
is not a part that affords opportunities for an 
actor to make himself the favorite of his au- 
dience, but it gives an actor a chance for good 
acting, and Mr. Burrows accepts that chance 
and makes the most of it. In its way his 
Sulky is one of the finest personations that 
has been seen for many a day. 



"The Road to Ruin" has never been played 
in Boston since that year 1889, but previous to 
that time it had hundreds of representations 
and never one that was not entirely satisfac- 

156 



THE TWO RELIABLES 

tory. The year 1889 marked the new order of 
things, and the old successes had passed with 
the old players. 

Mr. Burrows continued in the employ of Mr. 
R. M. Field while the latter controlled "Shore 
Acres" in New York and on the road during 
the seasons of 1 893-1 894, and he remained 
with that play for the twelve seasons that 
followed. 

He has resided in Lynn for the past fifteen 
years, and has acted from time to time with 
stock companies there. This present year 
(191 5) rounds out his fiftieth of actual work on 
the stage. He looks back to the old Boston 
Museum as a sort of heaven on earth, and 
reviews his many years in the midst of such 
happy surroundings with pride and gratitude. 



157 



CHAPTER X 
"Pinafore" Days 

THE season of 1878 brought about what 
might be called the transition from the 
old days to the present. The marked change 
came when the Gilbert and Sullivan operas made 
their appearance, for in that year new blood 
was infused into the Company. 

When "Pinafore" was produced, these 
talented newcomers, Including George W. Wilson, 
made the opera memorable. "Pinafore" was 
presented for the first time in America at the 
Boston Museum on November 25, 1878, and 
took the theatergoing public by storm, with its 
tuneful music and the dash and go of the whole 
thing. It was a revelation, artistic and com- 
plete in every way, as were all the Gilbert and 
Sullivan operas. 

i S 8 



"PINAFORE" DAYS 

Marie Wainwright, an actress of marked 
ability and great personal charm, appeared as 
Josephine, and proved her versatility. Her 
singing and acting of the role was a genuine 
surprise. 

Then there were J. H. Jones and his pretty 
wife, Rose Temple. They were singers of 
ability, well equipped for comic opera. She 
looked like a little cherub, and was adorable in 
the part of Ralph Rackstraw. He played the 
part of Captain Corcoran with much effect. 

An amusing story is told of Mr. Jones and 
his young wife. Rose Temple, an English girl, 
came to America with her sister, Bessie Temple, 
a well-known dancer of that day. Very soon 
after her arrival, she met, loved, and married 
J. H. Jones. Shortly after their marriage, 
they joined a company en route for California, 
and incidentally made it their honeymoon trip. 
After some days' travel, the train stopped at 
a remote station, Mr. Jones got off the train, 
and somehow wandered too far away. The 

159 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

train started, leaving him behind, with no 
possible chance of connection with another 
train for some time. 

The members of the company gathered about 
the little bride to offer consolation, when to 
their surprise she laughingly said, "My word, 
isn't it droll ; and Jim has left his pipe." Little 
Rose Temple was always complacent, no matter 
how trying the situation. 

Though many years have passed since those 
"Pinafore" days, yet it hardly seems possible 
that the stalwart young man who loomed up 
head and shoulders above her, with whom I met 
her walking in London a short time ago, could 
have been the little baby in arms, the pride 
and joy of the girl wife and mother who fas- 
cinated the audiences of "Pinafore" days. 

And there was pretty Lizzie Harold ! How 
irresistibly funny she was as the Bumboat 
woman. Her song of Little Buttercup was 
always received with storms of applause. Her 
best work was in slavey parts ; Belinda in 

1 60 




- 



"T3 




u 



£ 

h 




u 

U 



-a 

GO 



"PINAFORE" DAYS 

"Our Boys", Topsy in "Uncle Tom's Cabin", 
always delighted the audience. She retired 
from the stage when she married Mr. Comley, 
and devoted herself to home and family. 

Every one about the theater was somewhat 
doubtful as to the success of "Pinafore." Even 
Mr. Field was uncertain about the outcome till 
the song "He is an Englishman", sung by 
Joseph Haworth, took the audience by storm, 
and received encore after encore. Joseph 
Haworth played the part of Bill Bobstay and 
added greatly to the success of the opera. 

Mr. Haworth was a painstaking actor and 
absolutely lived in his work. I remember Jack 
Mason jokingly declared that Haworth used to 
dress up pillows and play his love scenes with 
a "pillow lady" in the privacy of his study. 
However, true or not as it may be, his earnest- 
ness was praiseworthy. He was very versatile, 
but he excelled in tragedy. When he was in 
support of Mr. Richard Mansfield, he was said 
to surpass the star in rendition of Shakespearean 

161 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

characters, and his performance of Hamlet 
might be classed among the best. He was also 
splendid in romantic roles, and starred with 
success as Elliott Grey in "Rosedale." 

I remember an incident that occurred on an 
opening night of a new play. Mr. Haworth 
and I opened the play in a scene together. The 
setting was a library, and what is called a box 
scene, which means closed in on all sides, with 
one door for an opening, so the actors are 
hidden from the view of the prompter. The 
scene started, and all was going well, when 
suddenly Mr. Haworth reeled, and whispering 
"I am very ill", abruptly left the stage, leaving 
me alone. 

No one behind the scenes knew what had 
happened. I hoped that the prompter, realizing 
that there was a lull in the conversation, would 
come to the rescue and ring down the curtain, 
and I carried on the situation as best I could. 
There happened to be on the table one of the 
latest novels of that day, which fortunately I 

162 



"PINAFORE" DAYS 

had read, so to fill the gap till assistance came, 
I introduced a soliloquy in connection with the 
story. In the meantime, Mr. Haworth made a 
dash for an open window. The cold air revived 
him, and he returned and resumed the scene, the 
audience being quite oblivious of any unusual 
happening. 

Joseph Haworth was the means of in- 
troducing his cousin, Miriam O'Leary, to 
Boston audiences. Miriam's first appearance 
was in "Colleen Bawn." She was cast for 
one of the guests in the ballroom scene and was 
given a single line to speak, "We have danced 
enough; 'tis nearly seven o'clock." Cousin 
Joe had coached her diligently for days, and the 
entire O'Leary family were in a state of in- 
tense excitement till after the debut. Miriam 
has said that for weeks the lines were spoken 
at home by the children, apropos of anything 
that might suggest boredom. 

Cousin Joe made no mistake when he pre- 
dicted a successful career for his talented rel- 

163 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

ative, nor did it take long for that prediction 
to come true. Miriam O'Leary was one of the 
most popular actresses of her day, and played 
many parts well. 

When Clyde Fitch's first play, " Betty's 
Finish", was given its first production at the 
Museum, Miss O'Leary proved herself an 
actress of unusual ability, and made the little 
play a success from the start. During her 
engagement at the Museum, she married 
Doctor David Collins, and has since succeeded 
in the roles of wife and mother. She is devoted 
to her five splendid children, and the footlights 
and their allurements have no charm for her. 

Miss Sadie Martinot appeared first on the 
stage of the Eagle Theater in New York, and 
remained there for one year. At the end of 
that time she went to a dramatic agency and 
applied for a position. She possessed a great 
deal of confidence, and being fully equipped 
with charm and beauty, she was ready to con- 
quer the world. After assuring the dramatic 

164 



" PINAFORE" DAYS 

agent that she was fitted for any position that 
might be offered her, she was given the choice 
of two opportunities, both in Boston. One 
was at the Globe Theater for the role of Cupid 
in "Pippins"; the other was at the Boylston 
Museum on Washington Street. The latter 
theater offered her a larger salary and a longer 
engagement, so she took it. 

She said she looked upon Boston as an ob- 
scure town, anyhow, and coming from the great 
Metropolis she was prepared to astonish New 
Englanders. No one was more amused at her 
conceit of those days than the little lady herself. 
She described herself as dressed in her best 
Sunday gown, a Christmas gift from her mother, 
with her full name embroidered on the buttons 
down her back in steel beads, a letter on each 
button. She was billed as appearing in a great 
song and dance creation, with imitations of Made- 
moiselle Aimee, singing " Pretty as a Picture." 
The afterpiece in which she played the part of the 
wicked godmother was called "The Erl King." 

165 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

She said the great feature of her performance 
was a pair of magnificently embroidered tights 
which she brought from New York to dazzle 
the Hubbites. From the audience, however, 
those gorgeous coverings gave her limbs the 
appearance of being tattooed, and she was 
obliged to discard them after the first night. 

After a short stay at the Boylston Museum, 
Miss Martinot was brought to the notice of 
Mr. R. M. Field, and joined the Museum Com- 
pany in 1878, where she received splendid 
training and became very popular with Museum 
audiences. Shortly after joining the Company, 
she married Mr. Fred Stinson, who was then 
manager, under Rich and Harris, of the Howard 
Athenaeum. She was married at the Revere 
House on a Sunday afternoon, and Charles 
Fechter, who was playing his last engagement 
at the Howard Athenaeum, gave the little bride 
away. I think that was in 1879 or 1880. 

She was a wonderfully pretty girl, just like a 
Dresden figure. Never have I seen a head 

166 



" PINAFORE" DAYS 

more daintily set on shoulders. She was an 
attractive actress and made the part of Hebe 
in " Pinafore" prominent, and was exquisite as 
Lady Angela in "Patience." An unusually 
clever musician, I recall that one time when 
we were traveling on the road, the score 
of "Patience" was missing. Everybody con- 
cerned was in an awful state of mind, but 
Miss Martinot came to the rescue, and not 
only scored the orchestra parts, but arranged 
the incidental music as well. 

When Mr. Dion Boucicault came to the 
Museum, she was selected for the Irish colleens 
in his plays. He gave a great deal of his 
personal attention to the direction of his plays, 
particularly to the parts of Moya Doolan in 
"The Shaughraun" and Eily O'Connor in the 
"Colleen Bawn." At the close of his engage- 
ment, Miss Martinot joined his company and 
went to London. She left us so abruptly and 
unceremoniously that Mr. Field never forgave 
her, so that her connection with the Museum 

167 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

was severed for all time. We missed the dear, 
irresponsible child who had wandered into our 
ranks in her early teens and won her way into 
the heart of every member of the Company. 

Mr. B. R. Graham as Dick Deadeye in 
"Pinafore" made a hit from the start. His 
make-up was screamingly funny, and his acting 
and singing very praiseworthy. Mr. Graham 
was particularly happy in the role of an adven- 
turer, possessing sang froid and suavity of 
manner most essential for such characters. He 
played the villains with us, and was so true to 
life that he was often hissed by the audience. 

He was appearing as a naughty man in "Led 
Astray" when this incident occurred. As 
smoking was not allowed in the dressing rooms, 
he decided to go out on the fire-escape leading 
off his room to enjoy a smoke. After wedging 
a chair in place on the fire-escape, he proceeded 
to make himself comfortable. The windows of 
the dressing rooms overlooked Court Square, 
and the fire-escapes ran up from the second 

168 



" PINAFORE" DAYS 

story to the top, broken by very small bal- 
conies. Mr. Graham filled his pipe, lighted it, 
and being comfortably placed, called out to a 
brother actor who shared his dressing room, 
"Now for a dang good smoke" (a favorite ex- 
pression), when the chair gave way, and he 
was precipitated to the floor below. For- 
tunately, he escaped with only a badly sprained 
ankle. We were horror-stricken when we 
heard of the accident, but with the fortitude 
that most actors possess under such trying 
conditions, he persisted in playing that night, 
though suffering intense agony. Mr. Graham 
joined the Museum Company in 1878 and was 
always a popular member. 

In the early days at the Museum, fire-escape 
precautions were not so carefully regulated as 
they are now. At one time, when the fire 
inspectors were inspecting the building, they 
were up in the "flies", and encountered Mr. 
Glessing, who was the scenic artist at the 
Museum for many years. They began to ex- 

169 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

plain to him the many ways to escape in case 
of fire. One way was to attach himself to a 
rope and go down hand over hand. Mr. 
Glessing was huge in size, and very retiring in 
manner, and after listening attentively, he 
asked, "Do I understand that in case of fire I 
am to manipulate that rope in this fashion (at 
the same time demonstrating the directions 
given), hand over hand?" 

"That is it exactly," explained the inspector. 

"Well, my dear sir, were I to try that 
method, I should go down heels over head." 

The intrusion of the fire inspectors caused a 
great deal of excitement up in the "flies region" 
that day. Mr. Glessing had for a neighbor 
dear old Susy Mason, the wardrobe mistress. 
The wardrobe had been transferred from the 
depths below to the flies above, and was 
guarded with a jealous care by Miss Susy. 
The costumes in her faithful charge worn by 
Mr. Warren were reverenced and regarded by 
the good soul as a sacred trust. If any male 

170 



"PINAFORE" DAYS 

member of the Company seemed lacking in 
enthusiasm over the costume Susy had selected 
for him from her vast stock, one might expect 
to hear her say: "Mr. Warren wore that coat 
for many years, as far back as 1857, and it was 
good enough for him." 

Kind-hearted Susy was quite voluble at 
times, and the fire-escape episode caused her 
much anxiety. Not for herself; as she ex- 
pressed it, "There is some possible chance for 
escape for me, but what would become of the 
wardrobe and Mr. Warren's Sir Peter Teazle 
costume that was made ^for him in — " ; 
And then she would enumerate the number of 
spangles that were sewed on, every one by 
hand, and the quantity and quality of materials 
used in the making of the treasured garments. 

Miss Ormond (Sadie) also superintended the 
wardrobe department, and was an authority on 
everything that pertained to costume details. 
Through her, one learned the proper use of 
footgear, from sandals to Oxford ties ; the 

171 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Scottish filibeg and sporran ; the correctness of 
sleeves, — whether slashed or puffed ; when 
and how to wear the large, square, upstanding 
ruff, also the cestus and girdle or hanging 
pouch. The headgear of the Grecian maiden 
with its three-banded fillet and the snood of 
the Scotch lassie were all carefully defined by 
her. The girl who played pages must know 
about doublet, trunks, and hose, and the 
draping of the toga. All this detail was 
troublesome for the beginner, but Sadie was 
equipped with exact knowledge. She gave us 
a foundation training in such matters that was 
never forgotten. 

When Miss Ormond became Mrs. Mont- 
gomery, she retired, and we all missed her 
greatly. Dear old Susy Mason stayed on until 
the close of the Stock Company, and spent the 
last of her days at the Old Ladies' Home on 
Revere Street ; but she made occasional visits 
to the wardrobe, and kept the garments care- 
fully brushed until they were disposed of. 

172 



CHAPTER XI 

Famous Stars 

WHILE the dramatic life in Boston was 
not entirely absorbed by the Boston 
Museum, yet many of the Museum actors 
wielded a powerful influence in their day. 
Just think of those men and women who inter- 
ested the Boston Museum playgoers for year 
after year, and think what the American stage 
of to-day owes to some of them. And they are 
not by any means the only ones who owe much 
of their success to the training received at that 
theater. There are many others who became 
and are still famous ; E. H. Sothern, Nat 
Goodwin, William H. Crane, Henry Dixey, 
Blanche Ring, John Kellerd, Thomas W. Ross, 
Henry Miller, — to name a few. 

Our E. H. Sothern — Eddie Sothern in those 
173 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

days — was with us for a short time. He 
came for a good stock training. Many of his 
parts required more serious thinking than actual 
speaking. Those usually assigned to him were 
dumb bandits, burglars, and bold bad men. 
Mr. Sothern was the most bashful, diffident 
young man in those days I ever encountered. 
It was embarrassing to speak to him, he blushed 
so easily. A little more than twenty years old 
and very attractive, he won the heart of more 
than one young maiden in the company. 

One little incident comes to my mind, which 
happened in a musical comedy — "Pippins" — 
when we were playing opposite parts. A "song 
and dance" was allotted to our share of the en- 
tertainment. Neither of us could sing or dance. 
When the music started, I don't know where 
we were, but I remember the song was called 
"Nantasket down the Bay." We were sup- 
posed to be lovers and very coquettish. In 
the dance he flicked a beautiful, gorgeous- 
hued, silk handkerchief. I was supposed to 

174 



FAMOUS STARS 

capture it and run merrily off the stage, pur- 
sued by my ardent admirer — a task not so 
easily performed as in the present day of Tango 
and the good old Fox Trot. I know I was 
awful — I think he was worse. Speaking of 
it but a short time ago, he laughingly said, 
"Yes, indeed, I remember how awfully bad 
we were." 

He told me of the horror of his experience 
on the night of his first appearance in a speak- 
ing part. It was at Abbey's Park Theater, New 
York, in 1879, and I think in his father's play, 
"Our American Cousin." His duty was to 
carry on a trunk and make some sort of a de- 
mand in a very few words. He said when his 
cue came, he felt as though he were going to be 
shot, and when he made his entrance, his nerve 
failed him. He stood there absolutely dumb. 
Every line had escaped his mind. His father 
was on the stage at the time and prompted 
him. Young Sothern had never realized that 
actors spoke to each other on the stage, and 

175 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

though his father's tones were sotto voce, he felt 
disgraced and humiliated before an audience 
that scarcely realized his appearance. Then he 
took up his apprenticeship at the Boston 
Museum, and no doubt that apprenticeship 
stood him in good stead. 

"Tommie" Ross (Thomas W. Ross), a 
Boston boy, got his training at the Boston 
Museum, as did also William Morris. Both 
are to-day in the front rank of stardom. 

John Kellerd played many speechless parts 
with us. I recall vividly one he played with 
Boucicault in a The Shaughraun." I don't re- 
member the villain's name, — Riley or 
Donovan perhaps. I know that I played 
Biddy Maddigan. The action of the play de- 
manded that at the end of the act the peasants 
run up an incline, waving all sorts of murderous 
implements — shovels, pokers, shillalahs, pitch- 
forks, and axes — all to wreak vengeance on the 
villainous head of Harvey Duff*. Biddy's duty 
was to stand at the highest point of the incline, 

176 



FAMOUS STARS 

wielding an ax, but Riley, or Donovan — played 
by Mr. Kellerd — gained a higher point, and his 
pitchfork waved Biddy's ax into insignificance. 
Jealousy and resentment seethed within me, 
and when the curtain fell — well ! He must 
have felt that I mistook him for Harvey Duff. 
Poor boy ! He was very penitent, and soon 
made me realize that his enthusiasm and 
earnestness rather than professional discourtesy 
was the cause. He has since gained the high- 
est point and retains it, as shown by his recent 
splendid success in Shakespearean plays. 

Blanche Ring began with us, in the ranks. 
Her opportunities were limited at the Museum, 
yet the comedy spirit of her illustrious grand- 
father, J. H. Ring, was evident. She was 
what might be called a laughing girl — brimful 
of fun and sunshine. Her success in musical 
comedy came after she left us, but Boston 
claims Blanche Ring as its very own. 

I must tell you of the Boston Museum 
greenroom — a long room with windows over- 

177 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

looking Court Square. There were long mirrors 
at each end. Over the door was framed 
" Trifles make perfections." There were seats 
on either side of the room, upholstered in green 
rep. The walls were painted green, and on 
them hung the portrait of William H. Smith 
(first stage manager) and E. F. Keach (second 
stage manager) and a call board where the 
castes for the coming plays were announced. 

We had a fine library. Our books were con- 
tributed by authors, visiting stars, managers, 
and members of the Boston Museum Company. 
The greenroom, which is now a thing of the 
past, was a social living room, where we spent 
our time when we were not engaged on the 
stage. We had a call-boy in those days and 
were called for our different scenes. 

What pleasant memories that dear old green- 
room recalls ! The brilliant wit and inter- 
change of ideas is never to be forgotten. I 
remember that Longfellow, Oliver Wendell 
Holmes, William Dean Howells, and Thomas 

i 7 8 



FAMOUS STARS 

Russell Sullivan contributed their books to 
our library. It was at the Museum that I 
met Longfellow, and also Doctor Holmes. 
Doctor Holmes was fascinated with the play 
of "Little Lord Fauntleroy" and praised very 
highly Elsie Leslie in the part. 

A pleasing incident is pictured in my mind 
in relation to Doctor Holmes. My baby 
daughter insisted upon having my pocketbook, 
and when I took out its contents and gave her 
the empty purse, she gave way to her disgust 
very audibly. Doctor Holmes, who was pres- 
ent at the time, said, "Oh, don't cry, little 
girl. There are many grown-ups disgusted 
over empty pocketbooks." She yelled her dis- 
approval of his interference, whereupon he took 
her in his arms and in his kindly way soothed 
her into good nature. He was delightful to 
meet, and we missed him when "Little Lord 
Fauntleroy" came to an end. A story is told 
that when Doctor Holmes started to practice 
and the first announcement was printed, he 

179 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

said he wished he might add, "All small fevers 
gratefully received." 

Our visiting stars, as they would come and 
go, one by one, gave to our Company an at- 
tractiveness and fresh interest. We were like 
one big family, we anticipated their coming 
and missed them when they were gone. We 
all had our favorite stars, whom we looked 
forward to with much pleasure. 

Edwin Booth, serious, kind, and gentle, — ■ 
with what pleasure we looked forward to his 
visits ! He was most patient and courteous. 
I remember an incident that occurred when he 
played "Richelieu" with us. Several Har- 
vard students were suping in the play, and 
one young man constantly watched Mr. Booth 
from the wings. After the curse scene — his 
most strenuous scene in the play — Mr. Booth 
would come off the stage exhausted, and followed 
by his valet holding up his velvet robes, would 
go to his dressing room and sink into a big 
easy chair, almost breathless. One night the 

1 80 



FAMOUS STARS 

young man, who had been watching him with 
intense interest — almost in a hypnotic state 
— followed him closely to his dressing room, 
and after the door had closed, knocked boldly 
and said to the valet : "May I be permitted to 
speak to Mr. Booth ?" 

Mr. Booth, always courteous, answered from 
within: "Certainly, young man. What can I 
do for you ?" 

"Mr. Booth, will you kindly tell me how you 
do that cough ? I have watched for several 
nights, and I can't quite get it." 

"Well, young man, how would you do it?" 

The young man proceeded to give his cough 
with the best possible effect. 

Mr. Booth said: "Now, what can you hope 
for, better than that?" 

Another story in connection with Mr. Booth 
is told of our old doorkeeper Pat. He was an 
inveterate smoker, and the actors kept him 
pretty well supplied with cigars. He would 
invariably make some remark to remind the 

181 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

actor that a cigar would be acceptable, such as 
"By George, you smoke fine cigars," or "A 
whiff of your cigar is as good as a smoke," 
which would invariably bring forth the desired 
article. One day he said to Mr. Booth, in a 
very reminiscent way: "Ah, Mr. Booth, I 
knew your father very well. I remember, too, 
that he never passed this door without giving 
me a good, big cigar." Mr. Booth replied in 
his quiet way: "My dear man, it must have 
been a very bad one." 

I was very young when I was cast to play 
the Duchess of York, his mother, in "Richard 
III." I was inexperienced, and in consequence, 
very nervous. I remember in that play I had 
my first real stage fright. Stage fright is like 
nothing else in the world. You are perfectly 
sane, when all of a sudden, as if seized with an 
electric shock, your knees and toes wriggle 
with no power of control, and your mind be- 
comes a blank. But I was fortunate in being 
able to overcome it. Mr. Booth was patient 

182 



FAMOUS STARS 

and gentle, and each night, while waiting for 
our cue to go on the stage, he would say : 
"Courage, little mother ! Don't forget to curse 
your cruel son loud and bitterly to-night!" 

I remember, too, how near I came to ruining 
a scene in "The Fool's Revenge." I played 
the Duenna, and the first night I made a wrong 
exit. Crossing at the back of the stage and 
passing a window that was supposed to be high 
up, to the audience I appeared to be walking 
over the roofs of houses, chimneys, and tree 
tops. Of course the audience enjoyed it very 
much. Poor Mr. Booth was on the stage at 
the time playing a serious scene. 'Tis need- 
less to say I kept out of his way that evening. 
I did not apologize then; I thought it wiser 
not to. 

He was very fond of children. My little 
girl interested him very much, and she was 
very fond of him. She called him "Mr. Boot." 
That amused him so much that he'd try in 
every possible way to get her to say it, and 

183 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

would play hide and seek with her and let her 
find him, while she shrieked : "Oh, Mr. Boot !" 
He would often hold her in his lap while he 
directed the rehearsal. 

I can't help thinking how much simpler the 
lives of actors were in those days. Mr. Booth's 
life was a noble example, and as our critic, Mr. 
H. A. Clapp, has said : "The one appalling dis- 
aster and sorrow of his experience he bore with 
such patience and magnanimity as presently re- 
conquered the favor of a shaken and bewildered 
nation. The soul of Edwin Booth — like the 
Art of Edwin Booth — was of the truly heroic 
type." I am very grateful to have known him. 
I feel that Edwin Booth is still unapproached 
as a tragedian. 

On the other hand stands Dion Boucicault. 
How we dreaded his return ! He was a 
martinet, but as stage director he was invalu- 
able. He had a way of changing his ideas at 
each rehearsal, and while they were always 
good, they were somewhat perplexing. I re- 

184 



FAMOUS STARS 

member once, when uncertain just where to 
go on the stage, I went where he had planned 
an imaginary table. He shrieked : "Are you 
going to walk over that table ?" 

I was confused and stepped aside quickly. 

"Here, here, don't run about like a hen with 
its head cut off!" 

It was his delight to get the women of the 
company confused to the extent of shedding 
bitter tears. It is told of him that a member 
of his company who was painstaking, but 
whom Mr. Boucicault had selected as a special 
target to shoot at, ventured to say, when the 
director reprimanded him for some business on 
the stage : "Mr. Boucicault, I have written the 
directions as you gave them to me yesterday." 

"Ah!" said Boucicault in his Dublin brogue 
and sweetest manner, "yesterday, certainly, 
my boy, I told you to do it that way, but 
the world is just twenty-four hours older, and 
we have advanced that much ; so do it this 
way to-day." 

185 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

I'll never forget how scared I was the first 
time Boucicault came to the theater. I was 
to play Katty Walsh in "Arrah-na-Pogue." 
She dances an Irish breakdown on a barn 
floor. I had a partner who was a fine dancer, 
but I had never done anything of the kind, and 
didn't have the courage to say I couldn't do it. 
Anyway, when the music struck up, I jumped 
on the board, and with my hands on my hips 
danced as naturally as you please. Bouci- 
cault was delighted and told my partner to 
follow me. 

Some one said to him once: "Mr. Bouci- 
cault, you have written many plays. Which 
do you consider your best play?" 

"Well, my first best play was ' London Assur- 
ance,' and the next best one is the one I am now 
writing." 

Mr. Boucicault was a brilliant conversa- 
tionalist and a charming host, often serving 
tea in his dressing room to a favored few. He 
traveled with a tea-basket, provided with a 

1 86 








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^ ilMil^l-' 1 



u 

O 

pq 

c 
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FAMOUS STARS 

choice brand of tea. He was a curious type 
of man to look upon, with glittering eyes, 
scrubby moustache, and a fringe of hair that 
was dyed very black. He always wore his 
coat collar turned up and seemed cold, bilious, 
and sarcastic. The most prolific writer of his 
time, he is said to be the author of more than 
three hundred and fifty plays — original ad- 
aptations and translations. He made a great 
deal of money, but died a poor man. 

Richard Mansfield made his first appearance 
as a star before a Boston public at the Boston 
Museum in 1885, as Baron Chevrial in " Pari- 
sian Romance", supported by the Museum 
Stock Company. The role of Baron Chevrial 
was made possible for him by the declination 
of J. H. Stoddart to play the part and gained 
for him almost instantaneous recognition of his 
ability. 

An incident that is impressed on my mind 
occurred the second night of the play. Miss 
Annie Clarke, who played the part of Madame 

187 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

D'Targy, had been ill, but with the usual per- 
sistence of the player who can go on the stage 
and play while suffering intense physical agony, 
she got through the first performance ; but the 
next night, after her arrival at the theater, she 
was obliged to succumb. 

I was regarded as a quick study and was 
often called upon to play parts at short 
notice. That night on my way to the theater 
with my husband (we were playing small 
parts and our duties did not begin till the 
second act), we noticed one of the boys of 
the Company rushing toward us, saying ex- 
citedly : "Oh, Miss Ryan, they are waiting for 
you at the theater. Miss Clarke is ill, and you 
are to play the part." It happened to be April 
ist, so I said, "Oh, yes, I know. April Fool 
joke," but my ever conscientious husband in- 
sisted that we make all possible haste. The 
German doorkeeper greeted us with : "Vat 
you do ? Vat you do ? Don't you know dot 
you play Miss Clarke to-night?" and sure 

188 



FAMOUS STARS 

enough, there were Mr. Seymour and Mr. 
Mansfield anxiously awaiting me. 

There was no time for study. I was rushed 
into Miss Clarke's dressing room and the manu- 
script thrust into my hand. The adjustment of 
a costume was a problem. Dear Annie Clarke 
was tall and stately — I quite the reverse. 
However, the dressing maid, after much in- 
genuity, accomplished the deed. With a gray 
wig and beautiful lace draperies that covered a 
multitude of pins, I looked a perfect lady. The 
part ! Oh, my ! Oh, my ! Longer than the 
moral law. Never had I encountered so many 
French names or words as were in the lines of 
Madame D'Targy. I remember a very affect- 
ing scene with my son, Henry D'Targy, played 
by John Mason. He embraced me very 
tenderly, while I wept on his manly chest, 
pleading with him to save the family honor, — 
all the while struggling to read the lines of the 
part over his shoulder. The audience ap- 
plauded me, and encouragement always meant 

189 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

so much to me that after my first exit, I 
"winged" the part; to "wing" a part in stage 
parlance means studying the lines between the 
scenes and acts. 

After the play, Mr. Mansfield congratulated 
me on getting through so well. He said Miss 
Clarke would not be able to play for several 
days and advised me to be ready to play the 
rest of the week. The next day brought forth 
a matinee, so I studied long into the night and 
prepared a fitting costume. I felt that my 
opportunity had come, but, alas ! the path of 
the understudy is not bordered with roses, 
and I found on my arrival that Miss Clarke 
had recovered sufficiently to play. I am con- 
scious even now how keenly I felt the in- 
sincerity of my solicitous inquiries and tender 
anxiety. 

" Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde " was produced 
at the Museum for the first time on any stage, 
May 10, 1887. I doubt if any actor drew a 
more brilliant and representative audience. It 

190 



FAMOUS STARS 

was a veritable Boston Museum first night. 
What a wonderful performance Mansfield gave 
of " Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde " ! No one who 
was present will ever forget the awful moment 
when Mr. Hyde's malignant, hideous face ap- 
peared at the window, and another scene when 
Doctor Jekyll appears at the door, holding a 
light over his head, directly after Mr. Hyde 
leaves Mr. Utterson in the dark street. I 
played Mrs. Lanyan in the play, and while I 
was familiar with the details of the illusion, yet 
I was horrified at every performance. 

My first really trying experience with Mr. 
Mansfield was in his play "Monsieur", pro- 
duced at the Museum for the first time. He 
had been rehearsing it for weeks and was to 
play a supplementary season with his own 
company at the Boston Museum at the close 
of our regular season. On the Saturday before 
the Monday night opening, Mrs. Germon, who 
was to play, folded her tent like the Arab and 
quietly stole away, leaving Mr. Mansfield in the 

191 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

lurch. She left Boston, bag and baggage, and 
all efforts to locate her failed. 

As our season was closed, I was available, so 
he asked me to play the part. I didn't enjoy 
the idea of appearing at such a great disadvan- 
tage. (It was then late on Saturday night.) 
However, after considerable difference of opinion 
as to salary — the usual haggling — I gained my 
point and accepted the position. I shall never 
forget the difficulties I encountered. I sat up 
all night studying and rehearsed the next 
morning. I was dazed. Ordinarily it was not 
difficult to study a part at short notice, but on 
that occasion I could not retain a sentence. I 
knew the lines at home, but when I rehearsed 
with Mansfield, every word left me. I was 
truly scared. The same evening we had an- 
other rehearsal at the Hotel Thorndike, where 
Mr. Mansfield always stopped in those days, 
as no rehearsals or performances were permitted 
at the Museum on Sundays. Mr. Mansfield 
had arranged a supper for the company after 

192 



FAMOUS STARS 

the rehearsal, but, alas ! I hurried home to re- 
sume my studying. The supper party was a gay 
one. Mansfield was a genial host and spared no 
personal exertion to entertain his guests. 

The next and last rehearsal on Monday 
found me almost as hopeless. Dressmakers 
were on hand to make my costumes under 
Mr. Mansfield's direction, the smallest detail 
being of the greatest importance, but I could 
not remember the role. Not until the rise 
of the curtain for the first act did I recover 
from my nervousness. I was discovered and 
spoke the first line, and never before or since 
have I been so perfectly at ease. I positively 
enjoyed playing the part. I think deadly fear 
of the author had taken possession of me. 

The play was a mild success and remained 
in his repertoire for some time. I went to New 
York and played during the summer, and he 
offered me an engagement to go abroad with 
him. But, fortunately for me, I was already 
engaged at the Museum. 

193 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

I had many amusing experiences with Mr. 
Mansfield, some pleasant and some unpleasant, 
but I never knew him to be resentful or mali- 
cious. He was continually discharging some 
member of his company and engaging him over 
again. He suffered a great deal from acute 
indigestion and during these periods was more 
easily annoyed. The slightest noise would send 
him off in a tantrum. I remember that while 
playing at the Madison Square Theater, the 
portable stage was somewhat squeaky and 
rickety, causing him much annoyance at times. 
In the play of "Prince Karl" I had to run on 
into his arms, and the stage fairly lurched. He 
was furious and rushed out of the theater, and 
the rehearsal was dismissed, of course. I was 
humiliated because my avoirdupois was the 
real cause. That night, when I arrived at the 
theater, I found a box of bonbons on my dress- 
ing table, with a card on which was written 
"Forgive and be forgiven," signed "Mans- 
field." 

194 



FAMOUS STARS 

Madame Janauschek, when she played at 
the Museum, impressed me in a wonderful way. 
She was very powerful and magnetic. Those 
lustrous, speaking eyes, that reflected every 
emotion of the character she portrayed, fas- 
cinated me. I shall never forget the wonderful 
expression on that Slavonic face with its high 
cheekbones, low brow, and firm jaw. A 
Bohemian woman of strange temperament and 
fire, her superb art held her audience at will. 

I have never witnessed a more thrilling per- 
formance than Jier acting of the dual roles, 
Lady Dedlock and Hortense in "Bleak House", 
in which I played her daughter. She was very 
nervous on that opening night. In one of the 
scenes with her, I was kneeling at her feet, 
weeping bitterly, with my head in her lap. I 
remember vividly that while soothing and 
stroking my head, she encountered a hairpin, 
whereupon she vigorously lacerated my scalp. 
It remained a tender memory for some time. 

I was so fascinated by her acting, however, 
195 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

that I felt I must show my appreciation, so 
the next morning after the hairpin episode, I 
went to the florist's shop and sent her some 
roses, with card inclosed, "From an adoring 
daughter who is willing to suffer at your feet." 
That night I hoped for some recognition, but 
received not a sign. Possibly there was some 
mistake. At any rate, I carefully removed my 
hairpins. Madame Janauschek loved to visit 
cemeteries. She anticipated these visits with 
great pleasure, and said she had visited all the 
noted graveyards in Europe and Egypt. 

It is said of her that in her most needful 
times she was offered an engagement in vaude- 
ville at a remunerative salary. She spurned 
it with lofty scorn and said : " I have been a 
king's favorite tragedienne ; I will never be a 
top-liner in a variety show." Poor dear ! She 
escaped poverty only through the humanity of 
her friends and the theatrical profession. 

Modjeska was delightful, with a charming 
personality ! Her first appearance in Boston 

196 



FAMOUS STARS 

was at the Museum in " Adrienne Lecouvreur." 
She was very nervous on the opening night and 
in making her entrance fell over the doorsill, 
but the audience greeted her so kindly, that 
she soon recovered and gave a brilliant per- 
formance. Her engagement was most successful. 

We looked forward to an engagement with 
Fanny Davenport with pleasure. She was 
wholesome and fine, an actress of remarkable 
versatility. I adored her as Beatrice in "Much 
Ado About Nothing ", in which her real per- 
sonality shone forth. Her great successes were 
in " Fedora", "La Tosca", and "Gismonda." 

Lester Wallack was a breezy, romantic per- 
sonality off the stage as well as on, and we 
hailed his coming with delight. He directed 
his own plays, and while outlining the business 
for the players, he would act every part in the 
play. The young woman who couldn't play 
the part of Rosa Leigh in " Rosedale " under his 
direction was indeed devoid of dramatic sense. 
I never knew him to lose his temper ; he was 

197 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

courteous and encouraging to every member of 
the Company. We needed encouragement too, 
as we were often limited as to time, being 
obliged to put on plays with but one or two 
rehearsals with our stars. 

Speaking of Lester Wallack recalls Harry 
Montague, an adored matinee idol of that day. 
He was splendid in the "Romance of a Poor 
Young Man ", and his starring engagement 
with us in 1876 was a brilliant success. We 
were grieved to hear of his death in 1878, the 
season we expected him for a return engage- 
ment. He died at the Palace Hotel in San 
Francisco after a short illness that was supposed 
to be merely a cold. It is sad to think of the 
handsome youth, adored in life, dead among 
strangers, without a relative near. Theatrical 
friends — ever loyal — attended to every detail 
as a labor of love. 

Lawrence Barrett played occasional star 
engagements with us. I was very much im- 
pressed by his acting in "The Man o' Airlie", 

198 






FAMOUS STARS 

in which he played the part of Jamie Harebell, 
with a rare tenderness not shown in his other 
characters. One scene comes to my mind 
clearly. The peasants are singing outside and 
by the window stands Jamie Harebell — the 
kindliest face I ever saw — with tears streaming 
down his cheeks, his whole frame convulsed 
with real feeling as he listens to the peasants 
singing his praises : 

"Oh there upon yon heather hill, 
Where footfalls come but rarely, 
There dwells a man they think of still, 
There dwells the Man o' Airlie. 

"He wore a coat of Hodden Gray, 
His hands were hard with labor, 
But still he had a homely way 
Of standing by his neighbor." 

I was a peasant, and each night I sang in 
the chorus of that play, my nose was red with 
weeping, and my eyes besmeared with cosmetic. 
Mr. Barrett was regarded as being unapproach- 
able, but I always found him courteous. He 
was somewhat exclusive, but he was a close 

199 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

student, entirely engrossed in his art — an 
actor who had to fight for every scrap of his 
existence against every hardship and handicap 
imaginable. He is enthroned in my mind as a 
devoted husband and father, an Intellectual 
actor, and a kind gentleman. 

Sol Smith Russell was a very agreeable star. 
"Edgewood Folks", " Peaceful Valley", and 
"A Poor Relation" came to us usually at the 
close of our regular dramatic season and served 
as a mild spring tonic — effervescent and re- 
freshing. Mr. Russell was more often taken 
for a clergyman than an actor. My husband 
used to tell an amusing story of an incident 
that happened when we were living at Martha's 
Vineyard. Mr. Russell came down to spend 
Saturday and Sunday with us, and incidentally 
to get in a fishing trip with my husband. Early 
on the Sabbath morning they both started off, 
equipped for the trip. The natives some- 
how regarded Mr. Russell as a minister, and 
were very much shocked. 

200 



FAMOUS STARS 

One of the native fishermen who had charge of 
the fishing trip learned that they were actors, and 
after watching Mr. Russell for some time curi- 
ously, said: "Say, are you one of them fellows 
that does jimcracks on the stage ? I wish you 
would come up to the house sometime and kickup 
some of your kididoes for us. Mother'd like 
it fust rate." (Mr. Russell introduced these 
lines in the play of " Peaceful Valley", and they 
never failed to please the audience.) When the 
men got on shore (the trip had been somewhat 
squally), they were wet and chilled, but had 
provided themselves with a stimulant and 
offered the old fellow a drink. The old man 
hesitated for a moment and said, "If you 
fellows will wait till I go up to the house and 
get a vial, I'll take some. It'll come handy to 
have in the house in the winter time." 

Once, while waiting at the station with Mr. 
Russell, an old gentleman who had been watch- 
ing him closely, suddenly rushed forward, and 
shaking Mr. Russell's hand vigorously, said, 

201 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

"By George, I'd like to see you play to-night, 
but unfortunately I saw you the last time you 
were here." 

The star or successful actor is regarded a 
public servant off the stage as well as behind 
the footlights. The romance and glamour which 
surround him never fail to interest the outsider, 
who feels a sort of privilege to intrude upon his 
privacy. Subjects of the most intimate nature 
are advanced without a qualm. On one of our 
traveling tours, I heard a man say to Mr. 
Warren, "Why in the world, Warren, do they 
send a man of your age about the country ? 
Can't they see that they are killing the goose 
that is laying the golden Qgg^^ Dear Mr. 
Warren, who never lost the spirit of youth, was 
ready with a reply. I cannot remember ac- 
curately just what he said, but I am quite sure 
the man was subdued. 

Age is the usual topic introduced, generally 
somewhat in this fashion. "Well, well, is it 
possible that you're still going ? How much 

202 



FAMOUS STARS 

longer do you expect to act ? I declare, you 
don't look a day older than I do. Do you 
know my first recollection of a theater was 
when I was taken there by my nurse on a half- 
price ticket to see a play that you were in. 
Now, what was the name of that play ? I 
wonder if you remember. I know somebody 
jumped out of the window. Goodness me ! 
It was years and years ago." After regarding 
your chatty friend, you feel that nature indeed 
has been kind to you. 

Mr. Warren intensely disliked publicity. I 
shall never forget his embarrassment on an 
occasion when he invited a young lady and 
myself to hear the phonograph at Horticultural 
Hall when it was first introduced to Boston 
audiences. The young lady was very pretty 
and popular, and always attracted attention. 
She lingered on her way out in the corridor to 
draw on her glove. Quite a number of people 
gathered about and insisted on shaking hands 
with Mr. Warren, and it was some time before 

203 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

he could disengage himself from the curious 
crowd. 

Stars and actors of the earlier days usually 
avoided publicity, but I am quite sure that the 
old Boston Museum, its plays and players, 
formed a large part of the conversation over 
the teacups of Boston for more than half a 
century. 



204 



CHAPTER XII 

The Younger Generation 

THE decade between 1873 and 1883 saw 
the Boston Museum at the zenith of its 
greatness. Never before or since has such a 
coterie of players graced an American stage. 
Here were produced the works of Shakespeare, 
Sheridan, Goldsmith, Bulwer-Lytton, Taylor, 
Robertson, the Morton farces, and the Gilbert 
and Sullivan operas. These plays demanded 
actors possessing dramatic fire, imagination, 
and intelligence ; actors who could play in 
tragedy and farce in the same night ; actors 
capable of representing historic traits, elegant 
manners, with pure diction and well-carried 
costumes. All this was the result of a 
broad experience and a sound, fundamental 
training. 

205 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

The last decade from 1883 to 1893 brought 
in a younger generation of players : Viola 
Allen, Eben Plympton, Edgar L. Davenport, 
H. M. Pitt, Fanny Addison Pitt, W. F. Owen, 
George C. Boniface, Frazer Coulter, Leslie 
Allen, Alfred Hudson, J. B. Booth, C. P. 
Flockton, Edwin Arden, E. H. Vanderfelt, 
Evelyn Campbell, Blanche Thompson, Maida 
Craigin, Forrest Robinson, Isabelle Evesson, 
E. A. MacDowell, Henry Miller and his 
wife, Fanny Reeves, Charles Dade, Arthur 
Forrest, Thomas L. Coleman, John Kellerd, 
Edwin Holt, Arthur Falkland, Blanche Ring, 
Louise Jordan, Russ Whytal, Sol Smith Russell, 
Frank Burbeck, Charles Abbe, Lillian Hadley, 
George Purdy, Helen Dayne, Grace Atwell, 
Fred Sydney, William Melbourne (Melbourne 
MacDowell), Gertrude Blan chard, Willis 
Grainger, Franklin Hallett, Howard Gould, 
Sidney Booth, Mary Hampton, Marie Burress, 
Robert Edeson, Edward E. Rose, Edward 
Wade, Ethelyn Friend, Ida Glenn, Ella Hugh 

206 



THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

Wood, Kenneth Lee, Nat Hartwig, Percy 
Bowles, Harry Courtney, Alice Livingston, 
Morton Payne, and Mary Hebron. 

Mr. Seymour's coming in 1879 brought about 
some advanced changes in stage management. 
His methods represented the best of the old 
and the best of the new. In his hands, the 
claims of traditions were not neglected, nor 
was the past allowed to obscure modern 
methods. He realized the importance of his 
position, and was faithful to his duties. I re- 
call very clearly Mr. Seymour's first rehearsal. 
He was youthful in appearance for the position 
of stage manager. His predecessors were older 
men. I think he was about twenty-five years 
old and very good-looking, and I remember that 
the young ladies of the Company were in a 
flutter of delight, and many little tricks were 
practiced to attract the attention of the young 
stage manager, one girl even going so far as to 
feign a sprained ankle. He was extremely po- 
lite, but hardly as sympathetic as she hoped. 

207 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

A real feminine outbreak occurred in the 
play of the "Two Orphans." We were re- 
hearsing the Convent Scene, and many young 
girls were on, as there are numberless small 
parts. Sadie Martinot, who was rehearsing 
the part of Marianne, started the girls to 
giggling, and we became hysterical. It was 
a trying situation for the young stage manager. 
At first he was nice ; then, failing to subdue 
us, he became very severe. That caused us 
to be all the more hysterical. Finally he 
was obliged to dismiss the rehearsal until we 
regained our composure, but all through that 
morning we were difficult to manage ; any- 
thing and everything seemed ludicrous. One 
of the girls reprimanded us, saying, "It's a 
shame to make it so hard for the new stage 
manager." That thoughtful girl happened to 
be Miss May Davenport, who became Mrs. 
Seymour later. 

I was reckoned with the good for promptness 
and punctuality, but helpless in restraining 

208 






THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

mirth on the stage. One incident is brought 
to my mind in connection with Mr. Seymour. 
It was in the play of "Topsy Turvy ", written 
by Dion Boucicault. After being played at the 
Museum with some success, it was sent on tour 
and we opened in Portland, Maine. Mr. John 
Mason, who played the leading part, through 
some mistake missed the train from Boston, 
and Mr. Seymour went on in his place at short 
notice. He was obliged to wear a negligee cos- 
tume belonging to Mr. Mason, which was ex- 
tremely ill-fitting. Mr. Seymour was slight and 
dapper in those days, and Mason was big and 
broad-shouldered. I was playing the part of a 
gushing widow infatuated with the young man 
(played by Seymour), and when I came on the 
stage and saw my new lover in an ill-fitting 
fatigue jacket with sleeves much too long and 
trousers to match, I couldn't speak with laughter. 
I could only see our fastidious stage manager 
in ill-fitting clothes. Fortunately we were play- 
ing a broad comedy scene, and my mirth could 

209 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

be disguised in the lines of the play. I never 
explained to Mr. Seymour, but I remember 
his manner was sympathetic, and I presume 
he regarded my laughter as a feminine weakness. 

Another trying situation occurred in a scene 
with Mr. Alfred Hudson in the play of " Nerves " 
in which he played my husband. While re- 
hearsing the part one day, he said, " I am in 
a dilemma about a hat for this character." 
George Purdy, our orchestra leader, replied, " I 
can lend you a hat, Al ", and on the evening 
Mr. Hudson appeared with the hat which was 
somewhat small but not noticeably so to an 
audience. He had ridiculed his appearance by 
putting it on in various ways and striking 
comic attitudes for our amusement in the 
greenroom. When he appeared before me as a 
serious, dignified husband, I was convulsed, and 
nothing but the good fortune that I was playing 
a nervous, hysterical wife saved the situation. 

I was heartily ashamed of myself, for there 
existed a scrupulous regard for professional 

210 





o 
S 

£ 

c<3 



THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

etiquette in those days. The most serious 
breach was to show an actor up on the stage 
or ridicule any mishap before an audience. It 
was a rather trying situation though, when an 
eyebrow became dislodged or a pretty nose 
distorted, or your lover had lost part of his 
beautiful moustache in an ardent love-making 
scene, to remain unswerved, even in the good 
old days. 

The season of 1879 was indeed an interesting 
one because of the other newcomers, — John 
Mason, May Davenport, Mary Shaw, and 
Alice Carle. 

Miss May Davenport comes to my mind as 
a charming type of young womanhood, sweet, 
pretty, and demure. I remember she wore 
gray gowns and violets. She married our 
attractive young stage manager in January of 
1882. 

Mary Shaw made her debut about the same 
time. Her career was brilliant from the start. 
I shall not attempt to eulogize her; her work 

211 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

on the stage has already shown her worth in 
her chosen profession. Her sister Peggy 
(Evelyn Shaw) was also with us for a short 
time. Dear Peggy, always brimful of humor 
and wit ! She left us all too soon. 

Alice Carle — a sweet singer from Maine — 
brings up pleasant memories. I am not clear 
as to her acting ability, but I am certain that 
she had an unusual contralto voice and made a 
marked success in the Gilbert and Sullivan 
operas. She was a girl of sunny disposition 
and wholesome personality. 

John Mason first appeared with us as Care- 
less in "The School for Scandal", and made a 
good impression from the start. He had a 
pleasing baritone voice, and his singing of the 
toast song was heartily applauded. He had 
studied singing in Italy, and just after a 
summer vacation at the Isles of Shoals, "Hand- 
some Jack" — as he was called in those days — 
joined our ranks. He was a stunning-looking, 
athletic type of manhood, and was generally 

212 



THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

accompanied by his mother. She was devoted 
to her two boys — Jack and Lowell Mason. I 
remember that many young girls were very 
attentive to Mrs. Mason, though somewhat 
disappointed if Jack were not also in evidence. 

Jack was always up to some sort of mischief. 
Our old stage doorkeeper, Louis Bohner, was 
the butt for many of his boyish pranks. Louis 
had been an old soldier who carried his medals 
and scars in evidence. He had also been a 
brave soldier, and seemed to resent the reign 
of peace. He guarded the stage door like a 
sentinel, and was ever ready with war an- 
ecdotes. Louis's duty was also to guard the 
mail-box and distribute mail and packages to 
the Company. He could always inform you 
in advance where the mail was postmarked. 

He was devoted to Mr. Mason whose mail 
claimed his special attention. On handing him 
a letter he would usually say, "Das ist some 
letter, Mr. Mason : I don't know vat iss in 
it," eying Mason curiously the while. On one 

213 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

of those occasions, as Louis turned his back, 
Jack dropped a huge torpedo. The poor old 
German jumped into the air, shrieking: "Da 
man vat do das, iss a liar." After that Jack 
would taunt him for being a coward, afraid of 
a toy torpedo, and beg him to lay aside his 
medals. All this chaff would bring forth from 
Louis incidents of shot and shell and brave acts 
in war times, told in an excitable manner, and 
with an accent almost unintelligible. All this 
was great fun for Jack, who would finally toss 
the old fellow a cigar, when all would be for- 
gotten and forgiven. 

Mr. Mason remained a member of the Com- 
pany for some years, taking leading roles and 
rapidly becoming one of our most popular 
actors. He left us and played for a time in 
New York, then returned to the Museum again 
for a revival of the old comedies. Mr. E. H. 
Vanderfelt, an English actor, had been engaged 
as leading man, but gave up the engagement in 
the middle of the season. He found a constant 

214 



THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

change of bill and the studying of new parts too 
strenuous, and Mr. Mason returned to take his 
place, but not for long. He had a falling out 
with the management and departed abruptly, 
leaving the Museum without a leading man. A 
young actor who had made himself quite 
popular, Mr. Erroll Dunbar, filled the gap until 
arrangements were made with Mr. Eben 
Plympton. 

Mr. Plympton was a spirited actor, having 
had a wide range of experience, and was espe- 
cially fine in the old English comedies. He had 
played those characters the season before. Mr. 
Field valued his work, and when the position 
of leading man was open, Mr. Plympton was 
selected. 

There were many rumors that the breach 
between Mr. Mason and Mr. Field was ad- 
justed, and that Mr. Mason might have re- 
turned had he been willing to play for his old 
salary, but in the meantime he had been to 
London, made a success there in "The Idler", 

215 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

and in consequence felt that his services were 
more valuable. It was said that Mr. Field 
would make no advance from the former salary, 
and Mr. Mason said : "The trouble is, Mr. 
Field, I have grown up in your theater and had 
the misfortune to go to you at twenty dollars 
a week. The least salary that I had expected 
you would offer me would be the amount that 
I could draw at one matinee each week." Mr. 
Field was obdurate, and so ended the Mason- 
Field controversy. 

Mr. Mason had In mind, too, at that time, a 
plan to star, and no one could deny that he had 
superior equipment for starring if he chose to 
pursue his professional career in that direction. 
He appeared as Henry Spreadbrow in "Sweet- 
hearts", by W. S. Gilbert, for Miss Clarke's 
benefit on Thursday afternoon, May 26, 1892, 
and that was his last appearance on the Boston 
Museum stage. What a glad greeting awaited 
him ! Every man from the stage gave him 
a cordial grip, and the women all adored him. 

216 



THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

The audience outdid themselves and extended 
to their old favorite a welcome that shook the 
roof of the playhouse. 

Jack Mason has never outgrown those dear 
old Museum days. He said to me but a short 
time ago, "You know I always stop at the old 
Parker House when I am in Boston. I can see 
the Museum from my windows, and I often 
stand on the corner by Kings Chapel and the 
old burying-ground and look across the street 
where the Tremont House used to be, where 
my mother and I lived so happily. Then I 
saunter down by the old Museum and stop at 
what used to be the foot of the stairs leading up 
to the stage entrance, and it seems hard to 
believe that it has all passed out." 

That old location is entirely changed. 
Sullivan's Drug Store was on the corner that 
Houghton and Dutton's store now occupies. 
Next door was Garvin's flower shop. On the 
opposite corner was the old Tremont House, 
and Papanti's Dancing Academy, where 

217 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Boston's most exclusive beaux and belles tripped 
the light fantastic, was directly opposite the 
Museum. Not far away on Tremont Street 
was Copeland's Ice-cream Parlor, a popular 
meeting-place for the youngsters as well as the 
grown-ups. Across the way were Atwood's 
Chop House and Resteaux's Drug Store — 
familiar haunts for actors. Remick's Gem Shop, 
next door to the Museum, was a fascinating 
place, where my husband and I often stopped 
to admire the collections of precious gems. 

Jack Mason has ever been loyal to the old 
location "where we used to be so happy in 
days of yore." He has made rapid strides in 
his profession, and is to-day doing his best 
work. I feel that the real stock training he 
got at the Boston Museum, with its intellectual 
background, has helped to make him the intel- 
ligent actor he is to-day. 

Elizabeth Robins, a Southern girl still in her 
teens when she joined us in 1883, was an in- 

218 



THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

teresting member of the Company. She 
showed decided promise and was able to get a 
splendid training in all kinds of parts. She 
made a strong impression when she played 
Donna Casilda in "Ruy Bias" and Blanche in 
"The Iron Chest." After two seasons with us, 
she left and joined the Edwin Booth Company, 
where her real chance came. While at the 
Boston Museum, she married George R. Parke, 
a promising young actor, whose end was tragic 
and untimely. After the death of her husband, 
she went to Norway and there she remained 
some time with Mrs. Ole Bull. During that 
time she made her study of the great Norwegian 
dramatist, and later aroused the attention of 
London playgoers and critics in Ibsen's 
heroines. She has since become celebrated 
as a novelist. 

Miss Helen Dayne, whose resemblance to 
Sadie Martinot was quite remarkable, came 
just after Miss Martinot's sudden disappear- 
ance, and in a very short time won a place for 

219 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

herself in the hearts of Bostonians, as well as 
in the heart of our orchestra leader — George 
Purely — whom she married. They both re- 
mained in the Company several seasons and 
were valuable members. 

Charles Smith Abbe, a stage-struck boy, 
appeared as a super in " Romany Rye", in 
1882. After a season of indefinite (super) 
work, he was engaged as a regular member of 
the Company at the magnificent sum of three 
dollars a week. He was given small parts to 
play, but in a very short time he attracted the 
attention of the management and public by his 
playing of these "bits." He was cast to play 
Osric in "Hamlet" in support of Edwin Booth, 
and so attracted the attention of the star that 
the following season he became a member of 
Mr. Booth's Company. 

In 1890 we find him back at the Museum, a 
full-fledged actor. His first real hit after his 
return was as Christopher Dabney in "All the 
Comforts of Home." A few of his numerous 

220 






THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

successes were Bulger in " Sweet Lavender", 
Joskins in "New Lamps for Old", and Ike 
Johnson in " Hands Across the Sea." Mr. Abbe 
has always kept up his interest in painting — 
a study he had taken up before his stage career 
— and his pictures of Warren and Jefferson 
are eagerly sought by collectors. Mr. Abbe 
was a member of the Museum Company for 
seven seasons. 

George A. Schiller also graduated from the 
super ranks, and in a short time developed into 
a clever comedian. He surprised us all when 
he got his first chance in musical comedy, and 
is to-day a leader in that line. Many of the 
stars of our American stage were graduates 
from that old Boston Museum super room. 

Among the attractive young women was 
Georgia Tyler, a prim little schoolma'am in 
her country town, who came from Greenfield 
to Boston to seek fame and fortune on the 
Boston Museum stage. She was a strikingly 
handsome girl and, strange to say, hags and 

221 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

witches fell to her lot to portray, but she was 
very ambitious and glad to play any part, how- 
ever small or unpleasant. When " Little 
Em'ly" was produced, she was cast for the part 
of Rosa Dartle. She made a pronounced suc- 
cess in the character and ever after, when there 
was a villainess in a play, she was selected. 
Her excellent work will be remembered. In 
that caste, Frank Burbeck played Steerforth, 
the handsome, polished villain, to the life. 

Miss Norah Bartlett came to us from Ports- 
mouth. Attractive and distinguished in ap- 
pearance, she was very much in earnest, and 
showed a great deal of promise, but her stage 
career was a short one, and somehow she never 
really seemed one of us. She was always ac- 
companied by an enthusiastic mother, whom I 
remember very pleasantly. 

Boyd Putman, a delightful young actor, fault- 
less in dress and manner, struggled diligently for 
the position he attained at the Museum through 
his painstaking and conscientious efforts. 

222 



THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

Edgar L. Davenport joined the company in 
1887, and remained at the Museum five seasons. 
He made his first appearance in the part of 
Robert Van Der Veer in "The Dominie's 
Daughter." That play brings to my mind 
June Booth, son of Agnes Booth and brother of 
Sidney Booth, who was also with us, both boys 
doing excellent work. "The Dominie's Daugh- 
ter" is tinged with sadness in my mind, as Mrs. 
Vincent's last part was the Dominie's wife. 

The last decade of the Museum reign from 
1883 to 1893 brought in a new generation 
of players, many of whom had already won 
distinction. Miss Viola Allen assumed the posi- 
tion of leading woman in 1888, when scarcely 
out of her teens. She made a delightful impres- 
sion as Dearest in "Little Lord Fauntleroy", 
with Elsie Leslie as the little lord. Her father, 
Leslie Allen, was also with us that year — a 
sterling old actor who had been playing many 
seasons at the Boston Theater previous to 
coming to us. 

223 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUA4 DAYS 

The Allen family were delightfully domestic. 
Mrs. Allen, who had also been a member of the 
Boston Theater Company, never played with 
us, but she was her daughter's constant com- 
panion. She made Viola's costumes, and they 
were ideally picturesque and correct. She was 
a devoted mother and housewife, and one always 
knew where to find a good pattern or a cooking 
receipt and incidentally the best of advice when 
needed. We were neighbors for a time, and 
I missed the Aliens when they left their cozy 
little house on Rutland Street. 

Eben Plympton, a forceful, spirited actor, 
became leading man when John Mason de- 
parted abruptly, but did not remain long. He 
found the duties strenuous, and complained of 
the hard work, often saying, "This is worse 
than working in a treadmill." He was a 
splendid actor, though somewhat excitable at 
times — very temperamental but always in- 
teresting. 

Miss Emma V. Sheridan filled the position of 
224 



THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

leading lady very creditably for some time. 
During her engagement she became Mrs. Frye. 

Mary Hampton and Marie Burress might 
be called alternate leading ladies. They were 
both handsome, talented young women of oppo- 
site types. Miss Hampton was a brilliant 
brunette — Miss Burress a beautiful blonde. 
Robert Edeson was a worthy foil as leading man. 

These young leading men and women were 
quite equal to the requirements, but the char- 
acter of plays had changed. Romantic drama 
and melodrama became very much in evi- 
dence. "Harbor Lights", " Bells of Hasle- 
mere", " Hands Across the Sea", these plays 
running seventeen weeks each, "English Rose", 
and " Ye Airlie Trouble" were successful produc- 
tions. Miss Evelyn Campbell gave a charming 
portrayal of the English Rose. Marie Burress 
made her greatest success in the play of "Ye 
Airlie Trouble." 

"Harbor Lights" opened the season of 1886 
at the Boston Museum. The year and play 

225 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

are impressed on my mind because of many 
incidents connected with it. My husband and 
myself and little daughter went abroad that 
year for the first time, for a summer vacation. 
Going to Europe was not as general as it is to- 
day. Our plans for our holiday were varied 
and pleasant. There was the weekly saving 
for the trip, studies in French and German, 
careful examination of guidebooks, European 
maps, etc. 

Miss Annie Clarke and her mother had been 
over the summer before, and they advised us 
how to plan our trip. Miss Clarke said, 
"Never will another trip be as nice as the first 
one", and truly it is so. 

Well, the time arrived for our departure, and 
we were an exuberant trio ! My little daugh- 
ter (very tiny) was arrayed in a long frieze 
ulster, with a field glass strapped over her 
shoulder and a little Turkish fez on her head, 
and my husband and myself were in traveling 
regalia that would to-day seem unusual at 

226 



THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

least. We embarked very much like the 
Micawbers, with the good wishes of almost 
every member of the Company, as our ship 
sailed 'mid cheers and waving of handker- 
chiefs. 

Each and every one sent a ship letter, with a 
special message inclosed. The message was a 
commission. " Harbor Lights" was to be pro- 
duced at the Boston Museum for the first time 
in America, and was to be the opening bill of 
the coming season. It was being played in 
London, and I was commissioned to take note 
of the play, costumes, and stage business of 
each individual character. I was so familiar 
with the work of our players that I could cast 
them mentally, and I discovered at the first 
rehearsal of the play that I had done so quite 
accurately. 

We arrived in London on Sunday afternoon, 
and on our way from the station we recognized 
many American actors, whom we hailed from 
our hansom, and friendly greetings and ad- 

227 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

dress cards were exchanged. Dear old Jimmie 
Lewis was the first actor we met. 

My little girl's appearance in a Turkish fez 
aroused much merriment among the English 
children, and in consequence, the poor child 
was very unhappy, and could not be induced 
to go out of doors until an approved English 
hat was procured. 

The day after our arrival was a bank holiday, 
and as the shops were all closed, we were 
obliged to lose two whole days of sight-seeing. 
The landlady, a wholesome, good-natured soul, 
suggested that after dark we take the child 
" hout for a bit, hup has far has the Circus" 
(meaning Oxford Circus). The little one thought 
it was a real circus, and the explanation caused 
her much disappointment. The poor child, 
after having it out in a good cry, asked for a 
glass of ice-water, whereupon the good land- 
lady explained sympathetically, "Why, Duckie 
dear, we don't have ice in summertime. Ice 
only comes in wintertime." The child climbed 

228 



THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

into her father's lap, sobbing, "Oh, please, 
Father, take us home. I like 'Merica best." 

We found the English actors very hospitable 
and courteous, and we were constantly being 
entertained at their homes and clubs. Sir 
Henry Irving and Mr. Wilson Barrett extended 
the courtesy of their theaters to us during our 
stay in London. 

It was at the Lyceum that I saw dear old 
Mrs. Stirling as the nurse in " Romeo and 
Juliet", with Ellen Terry as Juliet. It was an 
ideal performance. 

Henry Dixey was playing in London at the 
time. He was not received very enthusiasti- 
cally at first ; the London public did not appre- 
ciate his imitation of Sir Henry Irving. Later, 
however, the prejudice was overcome, and he 
became very popular. I have been told that no 
one was more amused than Sir Henry himself, 
who would request Dixey to give imitations of 
him at clubs and social gatherings, where Sir 
Henry entertained the American as his guest. 

229 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Mr. Dixey and my husband had been friends 
since the old " Evangeline" days at the Museum, 
where he danced from the hind lees of the 
heifer to the front rank in his profession. 
A funny incident is connected with our 
meeting of him in London. One afternoon 
on the Strand, we were passing a haberdasher's 
shop where a quantity of socks was displayed 
at the door as an advertisement. Dixey, on 
seeing my husband, rushed up and embraced 
him, at the same time grabbing up a number of 
socks and thrusting them into Mr. Nolan's 
arms. The shopkeeper rushed out and took 
possession of my husband, while he lustily 
called for a "Bobby." Of course a crowd 
soon gathered, as can well be imagined. Dixey 
pacified the irate shopkeeper by purchasing the 
socks, and then distributed them among the 
crowd, who tumbled over each other to get 
them. For a few minutes there was indeed 
great excitement. We were greatly embar- 
rassed. Dixey reveled in the discomfiture of 

230 



THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

my poor husband, who had a horror of 
publicity. We saw Dixey play at the Gaiety 
that night, where he introduced lines for our 
special entertainment, many suggesting the 
incident of that afternoon on the Strand. 

Mr. and Mrs. Nat C. Goodwin (Eliza 
Weathersby) were in London spending the 
summer with the Weathersby family, and a 
delightful family they were. They lived in a 
charming house at Clapham near Clapham 
Common. Many a time we had the pleasure 
of dining "en famille" with the Weathersbys, 
gaining, through Mother Weathersby and her 
brood of delightful girls, a charming glimpse of 
English home life. The girls, Eliza, Jennie, 
Emmie, Nellie, and Harriet were all followers 
of the stage. 

We made a short stay in Paris, but as our 
time was limited, we preferred to spend the 
greater part of our holiday in London. 

We reached home on time for rehearsal by 
the merest chance. It seems our steamer was 

231 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

scheduled to leave from a certain dock, but the 
sailing was changed on account of the tide, so 
when we reached the dock we found we had at 
least half a mile to walk ; so off we sprinted, 
like a Chinese trio, my husband ahead, and I, 
as usual, in the rear, laughing and breathless, 
only to be rushed on to the steamer just as the 
gangplank was being removed. I have spent 
summers abroad since, but as Miss Clarke has 
said, "Never will another trip abroad be so 
enjoyable as the first one." 

We saw "Harbor Lights" several times in 
London, and I brought home a notebook filled 
with useful information for my associates. The 
play was splendidly staged. Mr. Sydney, who 
staged the original production in London, was 
engaged for the Museum production, and no 
expense was spared. It was a great success, 
George Wilson, Helen Standish, and Mrs. 
Vincent making distinct hits in their respective 
parts. There was one ludicrous situation in 
the play when Mrs. Vincent used the expression 

232 



THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

(as only she could use it), "The engagement is 
broke hoff." That never failed to convulse 
the audience, and it became a catch expression 
about town. 

In that play, Isabelle Evesson made her 
first appearance, as Dora. She was a beauti- 
ful, wax-doll type of girl. When "Held by 
the Enemy" was put on, she was cast for 
Susan. I remember she had some difficulty 
in getting the Southern dialect. She and 
her mother lived at the Vendome, and the 
waiter who served them at table, she said, 
possessed the dialect she was seeking, so for 
weeks she made a study of the Southern dialect, 
and at last acquired it, giving a charming, 
sweet portrayal of the character. Miss 
Evesson, after leaving the Museum, made 
many return visits, and Boston, ever loyal, 
welcomed her kindly. Dear Belle has passed 
on only just recently, as have Eben Plympton 
and George Purdy, our efficient orchestra 
leader. 

233 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

Maida Craigin, a Boston girl, aroused a 
great deal of interest the first night of her 
performance in "The Jilt" with Dion Bouci- 
cault. She made a favorable impression in 
many plays, especially when " Bells of Hasle- 
mere" was produced. She married Arthur 
Falkland, a young Englishman, who was an 
actor in the Company. 

Erroll Dunbar impressed me as an actor 
rather seriously inclined, and a student who 
loved his pipes, of which he had a wonderful 
collection. He lived in a fascinating studio on 
Ashburton Place on Beacon Hill. It was very 
high up, and he called it "Cloud's Rest." 

Fanny Addison Pitt, who did unusual work 
and never failed in any part assigned to her, 
deserves more than my weak praise. Her 
husband, H. M. Pitt, was also a capable and 
distinguished actor. His performance of the 
old Earl in "Lord Fauntleroy" will be re- 
membered for some time to come. 

Many of these actors of the younger genera- 
234 



THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

tion — both stock and star — were brilliant, 
capable, and skillful, and the theater never 
failed to keep up its worthy standard. Yet 
after William Warren's retirement in 1883, 
there was a marked change in the character of 
the Boston Museum. The patrons missed the 
players with whom they had become familiar, 
and whom they regarded rather as old friends 
of long standing than as actors playing for their 
amusement. They were accustomed to their 
traits and peculiarities, which explains the 
popularity of the Old English comedies so fre- 
quently repeated that they were as familiar as 
household words. There was a falling off in 
the production of the old comedies and 
standard plays. 

Few of the younger generation of players 
were familiar with the traditions of that 
noble school of acting, or what might be 
called the grand manner, which was one of its 
characteristics. This dignity of style is some- 
thing not easily explained, but is instinctively 

235 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

felt. The younger generation is inclined to 
sneer at traditions, and has even tried to mod- 
ernize Shakespeare. With what result ? I have 
always thought it a mistake to modernize the 
old comedies, even in the matter of costume, 
so much of their atmosphere is therefore lost ; 
and I am inclined to believe that if the old plays 
were again well acted — according to the old 
traditions — we would experience a surprise 
that would be good for us. 

But with the passing of the old plays and 
old players, the patrons so loyal for a half 
century became indifferent, and the newer 
generation of playgoers was not so stanch as 
the old. Our manager, R. M. Field, stemmed 
the tide successfully till the season of 1893, when 
he was obliged to succumb. Mr. Field had 
been at the helm for thirty years. It is interest- 
ing to note that three men guided that 
great institution at different periods for half 
a century : William H. Smith, E. F. Keach, 
and R. M. Field. 

236 



THE YOUNGER GENERATION 

Mr. Field was born in Boston in 1832. Pre- 
vious to joining the Museum Company, he was 
connected with the Boston Post. He began work 
as a typesetter, and later became one of our 
best dramatic critics. Through a mutual friend 
of the Kimball family, he was suggested to Mr. 
Moses Kimball to fill the position left va- 
cant by the retirement of Mr. Keach. Mr. 
Kimball's selection proved to be a fortunate 
one. 

Mr. Field was a man of big ideals, who 
always held steadily to the idea that the 
theater should be an artistic force, and should 
exercise an influence upon the dramatic taste 
of the community — an idea that he carried 
out successfully for many years. It is a joy 
to remember that he resisted all commercial 
temptations, and maintained the traditions of 
the old playhouse to the last. There was 
indeed a sickening feeling of pain when we 
realized the passing of the old Museum days, 
and none felt it more keenly than our courteous 

237 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

manager, who had conferred a permanent 
benefit to our stage. 

The last play presented by the Stock Com- 
pany was "Shore Acres." When the final 
curtain fell that last night, we of the Old Guard 
passed out of the theater with eyes bedimmed 
with tears, our hearts flooded with memories, 
pleasant and unpleasant. It all comes over 
me again, as I look across the Gulf of Yes- 
terday. How much our life is fortified by our 
associations and friendships ! Though many 
voices are hushed, the memory of that past 
day is a great happiness to possess. 

"Would you have your song endure ? 
Build on the human heart." 



238 



CHAPTER XIII 

Yesterday and To-day 

THE Boston Museum Stock Company was 
in its day a powerful influence on the 
minds, morals, and manners of all classes. The 
Museum was a place of recreation for the old 
and young alike, and of great educational 
value, serving as a museum, picture gallery, 
library, and playground. There is no doubt 
that there are many grown-up children to-day 
who remember the wax gallery with its horrors 
and its delights, and the good old fairy plays, 
"Puss in Boots", "Aladdin", and "Humpty 
Dumpty", with G. L. Fox as the clown. There 
were given also the classics — Shakespeare, 
and the best modern comedies — where might 
be found standards of speech, of conduct, and 
of tastes. The actors were students, and even 

239 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

the beginner in the ranks must be familiar with 
his Shakespeare. It was a part of his trade. 

One served a long apprenticeship before 
securing a contract, which in those days was 
issued for a long season. There was no two- 
weeks-clause, as to-day. The actor or manager 
who willfully violated his contract was regarded 
as dishonorable, and ostracized for being ir- 
responsible. An engagement could only be ter- 
minated by some glaring misdemeanor on the 
part of the actor in violation of the printed rules. 

One was expected to conform to the printed 
rules and regulations. The iron rule of not per- 
mitting strangers on the stage was rigidly en- 
forced. The Museum stage was sacred to the 
player. We were very much surprised on one 
occasion when a younger member of the Kim- 
ball family brought a visitor on the stage as 
the curtain was about to rise. Mr. Barron at 
once requested that the stage be cleared of 
visitors. He said : "We are not a lot of freaks 
to be exhibited for anybody's pleasure behind 

240 



YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY 

the scenes," and the curtain was held until 
the stage was clear of the intruders. That is 
just as it should be. It is somewhat em- 
barrassing to find yourself face to face with 
strange people in the wings when you come off. 
Stage etiquette demanded that one must 
endeavor never to allow a scene to flag through 
the hesitation of any character, or the failure 
of any player to appear upon the scene at the 
proper time, but in some way must fill up the 
break with improvised words or business, and 
keep the play in motion, whatever unexpected 
change of lines or action might occur on the 
part of others. If a member of the Company 
were late at rehearsal, he apologized to the 
actors on the stage as well as to the stage 
manager. It was not permissible to suggest 
business or criticize another actor during a 
scene of a rehearsal. The direction of the play 
was entirely in the hands of the stage manager, 
and any grievance might be discussed with him 
after rehearsal. Crossing the front of the stage 

241 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

while a rehearsal was in procedure was in bad 
form. Smoking was never permitted in the 
greenroom. The men used the music room for 
smoking, and could enjoy a pipe, if they 
wished, in comfort, as there was a call-boy to 
warn the actors for their scenes. 

Familiarity between players and the public 
was not tolerated. I never saw our actors 
playing to individuals or groups in the au- 
dience. We were all conscious of an audience, 
of course, but there was a sort of dead line that 
separated the stage from the spectators. Our 
actors avoided publicity. The leading mem- 
bers of the Company were conscious of having 
won a degree of position in the life of the city, 
and realized that much of their magnetism de- 
pended on maintaining a certain glamour around 
their personality, which would fade with inti- 
macy. They never attempted to gain any 
social prominence. They bore themselves with 
dignity and were not indifferent in their bearing 
toward the public. 

242 



YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY 

Our engagements at the Museum were 
reckoned by decades rather than by seasons 
in the early days, our dramatic season lasting 
into midsummer. The Fourth of July was 
anything but a holiday for the actors. Per- 
formances were given every two hours on that 
day, the last one after the fireworks at night. 
I remember sitting out on the balcony in the 
shade of the globe lights, watching the fire- 
works and waiting for the people to come in. 
Somehow the crowd of holiday folks seemed to 
get more innocent fun out of life in those days, 
with its pink lemonade and peanuts, whips and 
toy balloons, than they do to-day. 

I can't help wondering whether the dreams 
of our childhood are not the real ones after all, 
rather than the dreams that come from a 
mature mind. When the spirit of Youth dom- 
inates, all the world is beautiful. Why should 
we allow that spirit to grow old ? So long as 
we preserve the spirit of Youth, we are fortified 
against petty trials, and it will stand by us in 

243 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

times of greatest anguish. Well, those were 
happy days, despite the hard work. 

I have in mind the play of "Moll Pitcher", 
a popular holiday piece. In it I played two 
parts; one was a little black "gal", the other 
a demure Puritan maiden. I was discovered 
at the rise of the curtain as the little darky, 
and in the next act as the simple Puritan maid ; 
and then a return to the character of the little 
darky for the last act, which meant putting 
on and taking off burnt cork make-up eight 
times that day, but I loved the work. 

There is a great fascination about stage life — 
a peculiar fascination — that nothing else seems 
to offer. Perhaps it is the power of pleasing 
people, if only for a few moments, — and in 
the character of another than one's self. When 
one is deadly tired and would prefer to cuddle 
down and read a good book, it is hard to have 
to go to the theater. But once there and out 
in front with the audience — with the lights 
and applause and music and all the surround- 

244 



YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY 

ings that go with the play — one forgets being 
tired and leaves the theater actually refreshed. 
Acting is a great panacea for the aches of mind 
and body, and acting, too, tends to keep one 
young, at least in feeling. The active life, the 
constant brain activity, keep the sentiments 
youthful, and give one no chance to become 
old. 

Extra performances then meant extra pay at 
the rate of an eighth of a week's salary, so we 
rejoiced in being cast in the holiday bill. Until 
1 871, there were no Saturday performances 
given before the Puritanical Sabbath, which 
began at 'sundown on Saturday. When I first 
went to the Museum, the members of the 
Company who were engaged in the Saturday- 
night bill were paid for an extra performance. 
Such plays as "Ruy Bias", "Iron Chest", 
"Lucretia Borgia", or some Shakespearean 
tragedy were usually selected. 

Speaking of Saturday-night bills brings to 
my mind the gallery god of that time. I am 

245 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

sure that the gallery god of the old days got 
more realism out of the theater than he does 
to-day. He usually expressed his likes and 
dislikes in a way that could not fail to be under- 
stood. He was familiar with the text of Shake- 
speare and often anticipated the actor's lines. 
Often in our Shakespearean plays, we required 
many supers, and it was not unusual to hear 
those supers in their dressing rooms give entire 
scenes from Shakespeare. I doubt if that ever 
happens to-day. 

The production of Thomas Russell Sullivan's 
play, " Midsummer Madness", is impressed on 
my mind for the reason that it led to the signing 
of my first contract. After years in the ranks 
playing thinking parts, good parts, bad parts, 
no parts at all, I was cast for the landlady. 
Mrs. Vincent was originally cast for the role, 
but for some reason or other she didn't play 
it, and I was put on at short notice. 

It was an unusual opening night. There 
was great interest in the play, as it was said to 

246 



YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY 

be written for the Museum Company. A very 
enthusiastic and fashionable audience greeted 
us, and the production proved a success. They 
were re-engaging the Company for another 
season about that time, and I also was re- 
engaged with a contract and a salary of nine 
dollars a week. My salary for years previous 
to that time was six dollars a week, with an 
extra eighth of a week's salary when I played 
on Saturday night. 

This was my first contract and I was filled 
with joy in receiving it and in the feeling of 
having at last reached the goal. There was no 
doubt that I was a real actress, with my pass- 
port in the strong box. I said to my husband 
while crossing the Common that night, on our 
way home, "Jimmie, I am quite satisfied now. 
But if the time ever comes when I have a con- 
tract signed at twelve dollars a week, I shall 
never ask for more." 

"My dear," he said, "don't be so sure. As 
your salary increases, your wants will increase." 

247 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

No, I was convinced that twelve dollars a 
week and a chance some time to play Lady 
Macbeth would complete my desire, — but it 
is easy to see that Nature never intended me 
for a tragedienne. 

The salaries of actors were small in those 
days, but we lived simpler lives. There was 
no sighing for the social limelight. The Com- 
pany was composed of home bodies who re- 
spected their profession. Our stage managers 
were not merely producers and contrivers of 
stage business. They knew the literature, the 
traditions, the art of their profession. 

I tell you it was a great treat to grow up with 
such people. There was a certain nobility of 
character in them, a dignity that was splendid. 
The audience, too, seemed a part of our life. 
Everybody seemed to know everybody else. 
An artistic atmosphere pervaded the house 
as well as the stage itself. 

I think that the actors of yesterday were more 
versatile. The opportunity for fundamental 

248 



YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY 

training was better. You felt, because of that, 
there was more of an intellectual background 
in the conception of a character. You see to- 
day a man is selected because he is a type, not 
because of his ability as actor. He has some 
special personal characteristic, and when that 
characteristic is outlived, then the career of 
the specialist is limited. 

I don't mean to say that there are no good 
actors to-day. There are many. The present 
offers plenty of opportunities to enjoy the 
finest pleasure the art of the theater can give. 
It is absurd to sigh for the plays of the past ; 
most of the people of to-day don't want them. 

The stage is largely what the people make it. 
It simply tries to meet the public demand. 
The difference between the stage of to-day and 
the stage of yesterday is the same difference 
that distinguishes the people of to-day and the 
people of yesterday. The actor of yesterday, 
to be successful, must change with the develop- 
ment acting constantly undergoes. 

249 



OLD BOSTON MUSEUM DAYS 

I am not sighing for the good old days and 
the good old plays. I am very much in the 
present, and quite conscious of the realism and 
the art of to-day. If all things and times 
change, it is well we change with them. Old 
school, new school, what does it matter, so 
that it is good ? 

But, somehow, those earlier days hold fond 
memories for me. New things come into our 
lives, new people and new interests, but they 
cannot quite replace the old — so I will say 
with Bobbie Burns : 

" Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
And never brought to mind ? 
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
And days o' lang syne ?" 



250 



INDEX 



INDEX 



Abbe, Charles Smith, 155, 

206, 220, 221. 
Abbey's Park Theater, New 

York, 175. 
Acres, Agnes, 155. 
Adams, Edwin, 7. 
Addison, Fannie, 155, 206, 234. 
Allen, Leslie, 206, 223. 
Allen, Mrs. Leslie, 224. 
Allen, Viola, 206, 223, 224. 
Ames, Amy, 22, 96, 98, 99. 
Ames, Joseph, 98. 
Anderson, Mary, 39, 40. 
Anderson, Mr. (English actor), 

134- 

Appleton, Nathan, 40. 

Arden, Edwin, 206. 

Atwell, Grace, 206. 

Atwood's, 56, 218. 

Aunt Belle. See Miss Wil- 
liams. 

Ball, Thomas, 6. 
Banks, N. P., in. 
Barnabee, H. C, 39. 
Barr, O. H., 141. 
Barrett, Mrs. George H., 7. 



Barrett, Lawrence, 39, 40, in, 
114, 198-200. 

Barrett, Wilson, 229. 

Barron, Charles, 22, 24, 28, 50, 
70, 80-90; birth of, 80; 
debut of, 80; benefit to, 
81 ; joins Museum Com- 
pany, 81 ; versatility of, 
82-84; an amusing con- 
tretemps, 84, 85 ; at Press 
Club benefit, 87, 88 ; leaves 
the Museum, 89; with 
John McCullough, 89; at 
Wallaces Theater, 89 ; 
retirement of, 90; 155, 
240. 

Barrow, Mr., 72. 

Barrow, Mrs., 7. 

Bartlett, Nora, 222. 

Batchelder, Josie, 144. 

Blanchard, Gertrude, 206. 

Blanchard, Kitty, 109. 

Blatchford, George W., 49. 

Bohner, Louis, 213, 214. 

"Bones", meaning of, in the- 
atrical parlance, 47. 

Boniface, George C, 155, 206. 



253 



INDEX 



Booth, Agnes, 223. 

Booth Company, Edwin. See 
Edwin Booth Com- 
pany. 

Booth, Edwin, 7, 39, 40, 180- 
184, 220. 

Booth, Junius Brutus (the 
elder), 7. 

Booth, Junius Brutus (the 
younger), 206, 223. 

Booth. Sidney, 206, 223. 

Boston Post, 237. 

Boston Museum, opening of, 2 ; 
building occupied by, 2, 
3 ; form of entertainment, 
3 ; first dramatic enter- 
tainment, 4; new build- 
ing of, 4; long life of, 
4, 5 ; first Stock Company, 
5; Curio Halls, 6; debut 
of Edwin Booth at, 7; 
notable artists, 1850-1872, 
7; Wax Gallery, 15; Kate 
Ryan's introduction to, 
10-22; Company, 1872, 
22 ; length of service at, 
23 ; famous quartette, 24 ; 
William Warren joins Com- 
pany, 27; his return to, 
27; golden jubilee of Wil- 
liam Warren, 36-42; Mrs. 
Vincent joins Company, 
46; experience of Com- 
pany on road, 48-51 ; rats 
and mice in, 51, 52; the 
stage cat, 53 ; fiftieth an- 
niversary of Mrs. Vincent, 
59, 60; her last appear- 
ance, 61 ; first appearance 



of Annie Clarke, 63 ; Annie 
Clarke rejoins Company, 
64; rivalry with other 
houses, 67-69; retirement 
of Annie Clark, 73 ; benefit 
and testimonial to, 73-79; 
Charles Barron joins Com- 
pany, 81 ; his successes, 
82-89; retirement of, 89; 
articles by J. B. Clapp on, 
108 ; James Nolan rejoins 
Company, 109; represen- 
tatives in Civil War, 1 1 1 ; 
James Burrows joins Com- 
pany, 150; criticism of 
performances at, 154-156; 
"Pinafore" at the, 158; 
Miriam O'Leary joins Com- 
pany, 163 ; Sadie Martinot 
joins Company, 166; fire 
inspectors at, 169-171 ; 
famous stars at, 173-204; 
greenroom of, 177-180; 
noted visitors, 178, 179; 
library, 178; Richard 
Mansfield at, 187; zenith 
of its greatness, 205 ; Stock 
Company, 1 883-1 893, 206, 
207; changes in stage 
management, 207; John 
Mason, 211-218; his last 
appearance, 216; changes 
after 1882, 235, 236; man- 
agement of R. M. Field, 
237, 238; passing of the, 
238; "Shore Acres" last 
play at, 238; power for 
good, 239; educational 
value of, 239; Wax Gallery 



254 



INDEX 



Boston Museum, continued, 
at, 239 ; its repertoire, 239 ; 
ethics of its management, 
240; discipline of, 240- 
242; the etiquette ob- 
served, 239, 240; length 
of service at, 243 ; days of 
hard work in, 244 ; fascina- 
tions of stage life, 244, 245 ; 
extra performances at, 245 ; 
gallery gods of, 245, 246; 
salaries at, 247, 248. 

Boston Museum and Gallery of 
Fine Arts. See Boston 
Museum. 

Boston Theatre, 64, 87, 117, 
223, 224. 

Boucicault, Dion, 167, 184-187. 

Bowles, Percy, 207. 

Bowne, Miss, 22. 

Boylston Museum, 165. 

Bradford, Joseph, 107. 

Brooks, Phillips, 43. 

Brown, Charles. See Charles 
Barron. 

Buffalo Bill, 95. 

Bulfinch Place, 43. 

Burbeck, Frank, 206, 222. 

Burress, Marie, 206, 225. 

Burrows, James, viii, 22, 50; 
at Annie Clarke's testi- 
monial, 78 ; Press Club 
benefit, 88 ; in the Civil 
War, in; recollections 
of the War, 113; 141, 144; 
ancestry and early life, 
147-149; Civil War, 149; 
joins Museum Company, 
150; with Providence 



Opera House Company, 
151 ; rejoins Museum Com- 
pany, 152; with Richard 
Mansfield to London, 152; 
back to Museum, 152; 
marriage, 153; criticism 
of Museum performance, 
I 53~ I 56; later years, 157. 

Burrows, Mrs. James. See 
Hattie A. Hill. 

Burrows, Warren, 153. 

Campbell, Evelyn, 206, 225. 

Carle, Alice, 211, 212. 

Carlos, Frank, 22. 

Cary, Mary, 96-98. 

"Caste", Warren's last ap- 
pearance in public in, 42. 

Castle Square Theatre, 147. 

Cat, the Museum's stage, 53, 54. 

Catlin, E. N., 22. 

Cats, Mrs. Vincent's fondness 
for, 58. 

"Chestnut", origin of the ex- 
pression, 145, 146. 

Civil War, members of Boston 
Museum Company in,in. 

Clapp, H. A., 184. 

Clapp, John Bouve, viii, 108. 

Clarke, Annie M., 19, 20, 22, 
24,30,34, 50, 52; birth of, 
63; early life, 63, 64; 
first appearance at Mu- 
seum, 63 ; rejoins Com- 
pany, 64; becomes lead- 
ing lady, 65 ; her versa- 
tility, 65, 66; ambition to 
play Hamlet, 66; her fa- 
vorite characters, 67; her 



255 



INDEX 



Clarke, Annie M., continued, 
loyalty, 69; success in old 
comedies, 69, 70; acci- 
dent to, 70; memories of 
old friends, 71 ; retires 
from Museum, 73 ; fare- 
well benefit, 73 ; testi- 
monial to, 73-79; pres- 
entations to, yy y 78; with 
Julia Marlowe Company, 
79; death of, 79; 87, 88, 
187, 216, 226, 232. 

Coghlan, Charles, 89. 

Coghlan, Rose, 89. 

Coleman, Thomas L., 206. 

Collins, Dr. David, 164. 

Collins, Mrs. David. See 
Miriam O'Leary. 

Comer, Thomas, 5. 

Comley, Mr., 161. 

Comley, Mrs. See Lizzie 
Harold. 

Conway, Mr., 7. 

Conway, Mrs., 7. 

Copeland's Ice-cream Parlor, 
218. 

Couldock, C. W., 7. 

Coulter, Frazer, 206. 

Courtney, Harry, 207. 

Craigin, Maida, 206, 234. 

Crane, William H., 173. 

Crisp, Harry, 95, in. 

Curio Halls of the Boston Mu- 
seum, 6. 

Cushman, Charlotte, 7. 

Dade, Charles, 206. 

Daly, Augustin, 133. 

"Dash ", Kate Ryan's dog, 106. 



Davenport, Edgar L., 64, 155, 
206, 223. 

Davenport, Mrs. Edgar L., 7. 

Davenport, Fanny, 109, 197. 

Davenport, May, 211. 

Dayne, Helen, 206, 219, 220. 

Denin, Kate, 7, 65. 

Denin, Susan, 81. 

Dixey, Henry E., 76, 173, 229- 
231. 

"Dominie's Daughter, The", 
Mrs. Vincent's last ap- 
pearance in, 61. 

" Dot ", Mrs. Vincent's dog, 50, 

Downing, Nellie, 22. 

" Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," 

190. 
Drama, Museum offers prize 

for best moral, 5. 
Dramatic entertainment, first, 

in Museum, 4. 
Drew, Mrs. John, 7, 39. 
Dunbar, Erroll, 215, 234. 

Eagle Theater, New York, 

164. 
Edeson, Robert, 206, 225. 
Edwin Booth Company, 219. 
Emancipation statue, replica 

by Thomas Ball, 6. 
Evesson, Isabelle, 206, 233. 

Falkland, Arthur, 206, 234. 
Falkland, Mrs. Arthur. See 

Maida Craigin. 
Farley, Mary Ann. See Mrs. 

J. R. Vincent. 
Farren, Mrs., 7. 



256 



INDEX 



Fechter, Charles, 166. 

Field, R. M., 8; Kate Ryan's 

first interview with, 12-14; 

21, 41, 51, 76, 150, 151, 

157, l6l, 166, 215, 2l6, 

236, 238. 

First United States Volunteer 

Veterans, 150. 
Fisher, Amelia, 35, 36. 
Fitch, Clyde, 164. 
Flockton, C. P., 206. 
Forrest, Arthur, 206. 
Forrest, Edwin, 46, 61, 109. 
Forrest Home for Actors, 124. 
Forty-eighth Massachusetts 

Infantry, III. 
Friend, Ethelyn, 206. 
Frohman, Daniel, 102. 
Frye, Mrs. See Emma V. 

Sheridan. 

Galvin's Flower Shop, 217. 

Germon, Mr., 5. 

Germon, Mrs., 5, 6, 191. 

Gilbert and Sullivan's Operas, 
158-161 ; 212. 

Gilbert, W. S., 216. 

Glenn, Ida, 206. 

Glessing, Mr., 169, 170. 

Globe Theater, 165. 

Goodwin, Nat C, 173, 231. 

Goodwin, Mrs. Nat C. See 
Eliza Weathersby. 

Gould, Howard, 206. 

Graham, B. R., 168, 169. 

Grainger, Willis, 206. 

Greenroom of the Boston Mu- 
seum, 177-180. 

Guiney, Louise Imogen, T] y 78. 



Hadlev, Lillian, 206. 
Hallett, Franklin, 206. 
Hampton, Mary, 206, 225. 
Hardenberg, Frank, 22, 70, 132, 

139- 

Harkins, D. H., 114. 

Harold, Lizzie, 160. 

Harris, Doctor, 107. 

Harris, William, 114. 

Hart, Mrs. ("Hartie"),50. 

Hartwig, Nat, 207. 

Harvard Plays, costumed by 
Mrs. Vincent, 57. 

Haworth, Joseph, 161-163. 

Hebron, Mary, 207. 

Heron, Mathilda, 7. 

Hill, Hattie A., 153. 

Hofendahl, Doctor, 120. 

Holliday Street Theater, Balti- 
more, 46. 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 178, 
179. 

Holt, Edwin, 206. 

Horse-car, actors welcome ad- 
vent of, 47. 

Hotel Thorndike, 192. 

Howard Athenaeum, first ap- 
pearance of William War- 
ren in Boston at, 26; 64, 
109, 166. 

Howells, William Dean, 178. 

Hudson, Alfred, 206, 210. 

Hunt, Charles, W., 5, 27. 

Irving, Sir Henry, 229. 

Janauschek, Madame, 195, 

196. 
Jansen, Marie, 76. 



257 



INDEX 



Jefferson, Joseph, 40, 127, 128, 

" Jip ", Annie Clarke's dog, 50. 

Jones, J. H., 159. 

Jones, Mrs. J. H. See Rose 

Temple. 
Jordan, Louise, 206. 
Judah, Mrs., 7. 
Julia Marlowe Company, 79. 

Keach, E. F., 7, 149, 178, 236, 

237- 

Keane Company, Laura. See 
Laura Keane Company. 

Kellerd, John, 173, 176, 177, 
206. 

Kimball, Moses, founder of 
Boston Museum, 1 ; pub- 
lic services of, 6, 7; death 
of, 8; personality of, 21, 
22; 237. _ 

Kimball, David, joint-owner of 
New England Museum, 
2, 3. 

King's Chapel, 217. 

Laura Keane Company, 109. 
LeClerq, Carlotta, 66. 
Lee, Kenneth, 207. 
LeMoyne, William J., 103, 104, 

in, 113, 118, 144. 
Leslie, Elsie, 223. 
Lewis, James, 109, 228. 
Library of the Boston Museum, 

Livingston, Alice, 207. 
Logan, Eliza, 7. 

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 
178, 179. 



Lowell, Massachusetts, New 
England Museum moved 
to, 2. 

Lucas, R. H., 22. 

Lyceum Theater, 103. 

Macaroni Club, 98, 106. 

McClannin, R. F., 22, 142. 

McCullough, John, 39. 40, 89, 
141, 142. 

MacDowell, E. A., 206. 

MacDowell, Melbourne. See 
William Melbourne. 

Madison Square Theater, New 
York, 194. 

Maguinnis, Dan, 104, 105, 109. 

Manola, Marion, 76. 

Mansfield, Richard, 152, 161, 
187-194. 

Mansfield Company, Richard. 
See Richard Mansfield 
Company. 

Marden, Miss, 23. 

Marlowe Company, Julia. See 
Julia Marlowe Company. 

Marsh, Fanny, 22. 

Martinot, Sadie, E. A. Sothern 
plays joke on, 55, 56; am- 
bition and confidence of, 
164; in Boston, 165; 
opinion of Boston, 165; 
joins Museum Company, 
166; marriage, 166; at- 
tractive personality of, 166, 
167; ability as a musician, 
167; with Boucicault to 
London, 167; leaves Mu- 
seum, 167, 168; 208, 219. 

Mason, John, 76, 161, 189, 209; 



258 



INDEX 



Mason, John, continued, 

his mischievousness, 213 ; 
in New York, 214; re- 
turns to Museum, 214; 
break with the manage- 
ment, 215, 216; in Lon- 
don, 215; Annie Clarke's 
benefit, 216; affection for 
old Museum days, 217; 
his loyalty and success, 218. 

Mason, Lowell, 213. 

Mason, Susy, 170-172. 

Mason, W. S., 22. 

Melbourne, William, 206. 

Mercantile Amateur Associa- 
tion, 117. 

Meredith, Harry, 114. 

Mestayer, Emily, 28. 

Meyers, Louisa, 66. 

Mice, Mrs. Vincent's fear of, 52. 

Mill Dam, Kate Ryan's home 
on old, 105. 

Miller, Henry, 173, 206. 

Miller, Mrs. Henry, 206. 

Modjeska, Madam, 196, 197. 

Montague, Harry, 198. 

Montgomery, Mrs. See Sadie 
Ormond. 

Montgomery, Walter, 7. 

Moore, Madeleine, 90. 

Morris, William, 176. 

Morrison, Lewis, 76. 

Mt. Auburn Cemetery, 43. 

Murphy, Mr., proprietor of 
omnibus line, 47. 

Mystic Pond, 144, 146. 



Vincent at, 46; 109, 124, 

134. 

Neilson, Adelaide, 66. 

New England Museum, 2. 

Nolan, James, 22, 50; mar- 
riage, 96 ; souvenir of old 
elm, 96, 97; 104; member 
of Macaroni Club, 106; a 
good story-teller, 107; 
popularity in Boston, 108 ; 
in Civil War, 109; 
wounded and taken pris- 
oner, 109; with Howard 
Athenaeum Company, 109; 
with Edwin Forrest, 109; 
with Laura Keane Com- 
pany, 109; at National 
Theater, 109; rejoins Mu- 
seum Company, 109; his 
ability as an actor, no; 
his death, no; recollec- 
tions of the War, in ; 144. 

Norris, J. W., 144. 

Norris, Mrs. J. W. See Josie 
Batchelder. 

Old Eccles, Warren's last ap- 
pearance in public as, 42. 

Old Ladies' Home, 172. 

O'Leary, Miriam, 123, 155; her 
first appearance, 163, 164. 

O'Reilly, John Boyle, 107, 131. 

Ormond, Sadie, 171, 172. 

Orton, Josie, 7, 28, 65. 

Osgood, James R., 40. 

Owen, W. F., 206. 



National Theater, first " Pansy ", Annie Clarke's dog, 
Boston appearance of Mrs. 50. 



259 



INDEX 



Papanti's Dancing Academy, 
217. 

Parke, George R., 219. 

Parke, Mrs. George R. See 
Elizabeth Robins. 

Parker House, 106, 217. 

Parker, Margaret, 22, 99, 100. 

Parrot, Mrs. Vincent's, 58. 

Payne, Morton, 207. 

Pelby, William, 46. 

Phillips, Adelaide, 5. 

Phillips, Laura, 96, 98, 140. 

Pitman, James R., 22, 50, 70; 
birth of, 136; joins the 
Museum Company, 136; 
prompter, 136; his ability 
and versatility, 136, 137; 
trials of his position, 137- 
141 ; an amusing mistake, 
142; fondness for fish- 
ing, 143, 144; at Castle 
Square Theater, 147 ; death, 
147. 

Pitt, H. M., 206, 234. 

Pitt, Mrs. H. M. See Fanny 
Addison. 

Plympton, Eben, 155, 206, 215, 
224, 233. 

Polk, Joseph, 116. 

" Popping the Question ", Mrs. 
Vincent's first Boston ap- 
pearance in, 46. 

Press Club Benefit, 87, 88. 

Providence Opera House Com- 
pany, 151. 

Punch and Judy show, Kate 
Ryan's first plays, 10. 

Purdy, George, 206, 210, 220, 
233. 



Purdy, Mrs. George. See 

Helen Dayne. 
Putman, Boyd, 222. 

Rammetti, Joe, 106. 

Rats, in the Museum, 52 ; Mrs. 
Vincent's fear of, 52. 

Reeves, Fanny, 206. 

Reignolds, Kate, 7, 65, 66. 

Remick's Gem Shop, 218. 

Resteaux's Drug Store, 218. 

Revere House, 166. 

"Review, The ", Mrs. Vincent's 
debut in, 45. 

Rich and Harris, 166. 

Richard Mansfield Company, 
114. 

Richardson, Judge, 59. 

Richings, Caroline, 7. 

Richings, Peter, 7. 

Rigl Sisters, The, 93. 

Ring, Blanche, 133, 173, 177, 
206. 

Ring, J. H., 22, 50; at Na- 
tional Theater, 124; joins 
Museum Company, 124; 
visits England, 125; ex- 
perience abroad, 125, 126; 
popularity of, 129; friend- 
ship with O'Reilly, 131; 
his home, 131, 132; man- 
ner with visiting actors, 
133; death of, 135; 144, 
177. 

Ring, Mrs., J. H., 124. 

"Rivals, The", Warren's first 
appearance in Boston in, 
26. 

Roberts, Sir Randal, 107. 



260 



INDEX 



Robertson, Agnes, 7. 

Robins, Elizabeth, 218, 219. 

Robinson, Forrest, 206. 

Robson, May, 76. 

Rogers, Genevieve, 140. 

Rose, Edward E., 206. 

Ross, Thomas W., 173, 176. 

Russell, Henry S., 74, 75. 

Russell, Sol Smith, 200-202, 206. 

Ryan, Kate, birth of, 9; first 
experiences at Boston Mu- 
seum, 10-24; her debut, 
17, 18; first stage gown, 
18; page in "Richard 
III ", 20 ; with Warren in 
"The Silver Spoon", 30- 
33 ; scene with Warren 
in "My Son", 34; as 
Lady Sneerzvell at Warren 
jubilee, 42 ; experiences on 
the road, 48-51 ; Sothern's 
jokes on, 55, 56; tribute to 
Mrs. Vincent, 61, 62; to 
Annie Clarke, 72, 73 ; 
absence from Clarke testi- 
monial, 76; with Lewis 
Morrison, 76; in scene 
with Charles Barron, 86; 
later experiences, 91-116; 
an amusing incident, 91 , 
92; her first part, 92; 
dancing ambitions, 93, 94; 
marriage, 96; souvenir of 
the old elm, 96, 97; home 
on old Mill Dam, 105; 
happy married life, 105- 
110; death of husband, 
no; a war incident 112; 
impressions of George W. 



Wilson, 1 1 7-1 21; recol- 
lections of J. H. Ring, 124- 
135; "Pinafore" days, 
158-161; an awkward in- 
cident, 162, 163 ; famous 
stars, 173-204; in musical 
comedy with Sothern, 174, 
175; recollections of the 
greenroom, 177-180; an 
incident with Doctor 
Holmes, 179; acquaint- 
ance with Edwin Booth, 
182-184; a difficult part 
at short notice, 188-190; 
an engagement with Mans- 
field, 192, 193 ; summer in 
New York, 193 ; amusing 
experiences, 194; a trying 
scene with Janauschek, 
195 ; acquaintance with 
Sol Smith Russell, 200- 
202 ; the decade 1883-1893, 
206-23 8 ; trials of a stage 
manager, 208-211 ; trip to 
Europe, 226; the stay in 
England, 227-23 1 ; amus- 
ing meeting with Dixey, 
230; return home, 232; 
reflections on the passing 
of the Museum, 238; ap- 
prenticeship at the Mu- 
seum, 240; rigid and just 
discipline enforced, 240, 
241 ; etiquette observed 
by members, 241, 242; 
long terms of service, 243 ; 
days of hard work, 244; 
fascinations of stage life, 
244, 245 ; extra perform- 



26l 



INDEX 



Ryan, Kate, continued, 

ances, 245 ; the Saturday- 
night bills, 245, 246; the 
gallery gods, 246; first 
contract, 246, 247; modest 
salaries, 247, 248; reflec- 
tions on the stage life and 
profession, 248, 249; the 
stage what the public 
makes it, 249, 250; fond 
memories, 250. 

St. Joseph's Church, 105. 

Salsbury, Nate, 22, 95, 1 1 1, 144. 

Salvini, Alexander, y6. 

Saunders, C. H., 5. 

Schiller, George A., 221. 

Selwyn's Stock Company, 67, 
68. 

Seymour, William, 76, 207—211. 

Seymour, Mrs. William. See 
May Davenport. 

Shannon, Joe, 107. 

Shaw, Evelyn ("Peggy")* 212. 

Shaw, Mary, 76, 77, 211, 212. 

Shaw, Robert Gould, viii. 

Sheridan, Emma V., 224, 225. 

Sheridan, W. E., 114. 

Shewell, L. R., 7, 82, 150, 151. 

"Shore Acres", last play pre- 
sented at the Museum, 238. 

Sixteenth Massachusetts In- 
fantry, 150. 

Skerritt, Fanny, 22. 

Skerritt, Rose, 7. 

Smith, Dexter, 144. 

Smith, J. A., 22, 122-124; l° n g 
service with Museum Com- 
pany, 124; last days, 124. 



Smith, William H., 5, 149, 178, 
236. 

Sothern Company, 121. 

Sothern, Edward A., 53 ; prac- 
tical jokes of, 54-56; kind- 
ness of, 57, 59. 

Sothern, E. H., 173-176. 

" Sothern Fund, The ", 57. 

Standish, Helen, 232. 

Stevenson, Charles, 98. 

Stinson, Fred, 166. 

Stinson, Mrs. Fred. See Sadie 
Marti not. 

Stirling, Mrs. 229. 

Stock Company, first Boston 
Museum, 5 ; Kate Ryan 
joins, 17; in 1872, 22, 23; 
William Warren joins, 27; 
Mrs. Vincent a member, 
46; experiences on the 
road, 48-5 1 ; Annie 
Clarke joins, 64; loyalty 
of, to management, 6y y 68 ; 
testimonial to Annie 
Clarke, 77; Charles Bar- 
ron, 81 ; George W. Wil- 
son, 117; J. H. Ring, 124; 
James Burrows, 150; mem- 
bers, 1 883-1 893, 206, 207; 
"Shore Acres" last play 
presented by, 238; its in- 
fluence for good, 239; its 
repertoire, 239; discipline 
and etiquette of, 239-242; 
length of service in, 243 ; 
hard work of, 244; extra 
performances by, 245 ; 
salaries of, 247, 248. 

Stoddart, J. H., 187. 



262 



INDEX 



Sullivan, Barry, 7. 
Sullivan, Joe, 114, 115. 
Sullivan, Thomas Russell, 41, 

179, 246. 
Sullivan's Drug Store, 217. 
Sydney, Fred, 206, 232. 

Temple, Bessie, 159. 

Temple, Rose, 159. 

Terry, Ellen, 229. 

Thoman, Mr., 5. 

Thoman, Mrs., 5. 

Thompson, Blanche, 206. 

Thompson, Charlotte, 7. 

Tremont House, 217. 

Tress el, Edwin's Booth's debut 

as, 7. 
Trinity Church, 43. 
Tyler, Georgia, 140, 221, 222. 

Vandenhoff, George, 7. 

Vanderfelt, E. H., 206, 214. 

Vaudeville, Americanized at 
Boston Museum, 3. 

Vincent Hospital for Women, 
62. 

Vincent, J. R., 45, 46, 124. 

Vincent, Mrs. J. R., 11, 22, 24; 
personality of, 44; popu- 
larity of, 44 ; birth of, 45 ; 
debut in "The Review", 
45 ; marriage, 45 ; early 
experiences, 45 ; arrival in 
America, 45 ; first Boston 
appearance, 46 ; joins Mu- 
seum Company, 46; long 
service with, 46; with 
Edwin Forrest, 46 ; second 
marriage, 46 ; domestic 



traits, 47, 48; experiences 
on the road, 48-5 1 ; her 
fear of rats and mice, 51, 
52 ; friendship with 
Sothern, 53—57; the 
"Sothern Fund", 57; cos- 
tumes Harvard plays, 57; 
her collections, 57; love of 
animals, 58; fiftieth anni- 
versary as an actress, 59, 
60; her versatility, 60, 
61 ; honored by Forrest, 
61 ; her last part, 61 ; 
death, 61 ; 63, 64, 123, 124, 
223, 232, 246. 
Vinton, Frederick P., 37, 40. 

Wade, Edward, 206. 

Wainwright, Marie, 159. 

Wallace, J. J., 115. 

Wallack, James W., 7. 

Wallack, Lester, 39, 197, 198. 

Wallack's Theater, 89. 

Waller, Mr., 7. 

Waller, Mrs., 7. 

Warren, William, 22, 24; ver- 
satility of, 25 ; birth of, 
26; first appearance in 
Boston, 26; joins Mu- 
seum Company, 27; long 
service of, 27; forms 
Warren-Orton Combina- 
tion, 27; returns to Mu- 
seum, 27, 28; success in 
farces, 29; Kate Ryan in 
scene with, 31-33; home 
°f> 35> 3 6 > golden jubilee 
of, 36-42 ; portrait and 
bust of, 37; loving-cup to, 



263 



INDEX 



Warren, William, continued, 
40; letter to Stock Com- 
pany, 41 ; his acting at his 
jubilee, 41 ; his last im- 
personation as Old Eccles, 
42; retirement of, 42; 
last years of, 43 ; death, 
43; 48, 50, 51, 63, 64, 70, 
72, 102, 127, 128, 144-146, 
153,170,171,202,203,235. 

Warren-Orton Combination, 
the, 27; members of, 28. 

Watkins, Miss, 22. 

Wax Gallery of the Boston 
Museum, 15, 239. 

Weathersby, Eliza, 231. 

Weathersby Family, the, 231. 

West, Beverly, 90. 

Whitman, Mr., 109. 

Whytal, Russ, 206. 



Williams, Fred, 21, 22, 68, 92, 
101, 103. 

Williams, Mrs. Fred, 22, 101. 

Williams, Fritz, 101, 102. 

Williams, Miss (Aunt Belle), 
101. 

Williams, Sallie, 102. 

Wilson, George W., 50; joins 
Museum Company, 117; 
success in comedy, 118, 
119; with Sothern Com- 
pany, 121 ; loyalty to the 
Museum, 121; 155, 232. 

Wilson, H. N., 22. 

Wilson, John, 7, 46. 

Winter, William, 40. 

Wood, Ella Hugh, 207. 

Wright, Josie, 22. 

Wyeth, G. H., 5. 

Wyndham, Charles, 114. 



264 



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